Six Different Ways Inside My Heart
by april09-TW
Summary: <html><head></head>Bella & Edward meet when she is diagnosed with a life threatening disease & he is recovering from knee surgery. She confides her fears to him; he changes his life because of her. A journey through the confusion, awkwardness, pain & beauty of first love.</html>
1. Prologue: Movement

**A/N: **I started writing _Six Different Ways_ in June 2009 and first posted it on Twilighted starting in August 2009. I'm just finally posting it here on FF in the hopes that it will encourage me to finish writing it. I have about three chapters left, partially written, and am hoping to wrap this up in the next month or so.

Disclaimer: While I wasn't new to writing, I was new to the fandom at the time, and if I were to write this now, it would be different. Also, the patients/characters in this story are all fictional.

Thank you to pomme_de_terre for pre-reading. The title of this story is from The Cure song of the same name.

**Stephenie Meyer owns any Twilight characters that may appear in this story. The remainder is my original work. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

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><p><strong>Prologue:<strong>

**Movement**

I stare at the patterns on my ceiling, the smoothness of the swirling forms making me think of cells like in my biology class. Cells dividing and dividing and dividing. Repeated phases of mitosis. But instead of creating another living thing, they are invading my body, my blood, my bones.

The swirls start to blur and merge into one as my eyes tear up. I blink the warm moisture back and reluctantly smile up at them at the ridiculousness of my fear yesterday morning when I went to the doctor's office. I didn't know fear then. They sent me home from school, calling my mom to pick me up from the nurse's office. I had fainted.

I had been feeling tired for the past few weeks, then out of the blue, I fainted. I was running late for my English class and we had a paper due. I stayed up late finishing it up and ran all the way to first period. One minute I was catching my breath just outside the door, the next minute everything was spinning, then black.

_This is it,_ I thought as I regained focus in the nurse's office. It was what I had been denying. _I'm pregnant_. Who gets pregnant the first time anyway? Who gets pregnant while using a condom? A condom that broke part way through a half ass attempt at losing my virginity with a guy I hardly knew and didn't really care about. That's what I get for wanting to get it over with.

But as I sat in the doctor's office-with my mom in the waiting room-waiting for the doctor to come back to me with the results of the pregnancy test, her words started to make more sense to me. _If you're mature enough to have sex, then you're mature enough to talk to your parents about the pill._ Except it didn't matter. Because I'm not going to have sex again. For now. And I'm not pregnant.

I can hear my mom, Renee, downstairs talking to my aunt on the phone through her own sobbing tears. The sound of her crying is what stirs me to motion again. I get up, drag my duffel bag out from under my bed, and start packing some clothes. I toss in some pajamas, my favorite ginger scented lotion, a few books, then pack up my laptop. Then I flop back down on my bed again and wait for the call from the hospital to let us know my room is ready.


	2. Chapter 1: Tears

**Chapter 1:**

**Tears**

Going to the hospital is a blur. We're greeted by a resident who looks barely older than me, and gives me sorrowful looks as he asks, "do you know what leukemia is? That it's a cancer of the bone?" and we nod minutely. He adds, "the fellow and Dr. G, the oncologist….er…specialist will be here soon to talk to you more about it". He asks a few questions, then is done. My nurse is a lot less nervous than he is as she greets me sweetly and tells me her name is Sue. Meanwhile, my mom sobs quietly in the corner, leaving me to answer most of the questions.

By the time the fellow and Dr. G arrive, my dad—Charlie—is in the room too, barely civil as he asks his own questions about why my doctor didn't find this sooner. Never mind the fact that I hadn't been to the doctor in a few years. Then they start talking about cell counts and high risk versus low risk and biopsies and different types of chemotherapy while my head spins at all the new words and my mom asks Dr. G to repeat himself more than once. At the end, the fellow kicks my parents and Dr. G out of the room to talk to me privately, stating that they always talk to teens on their own for a bit.

She's the first doctor to look me in the eyes. I look her over curiously—she's wearing jeans underneath her white coat, like she just got called in unexpectedly, and her long brown hair is tied up in a messy bun like mine. Her dark brown eyes are emphasized by the brown of her thick rimmed glasses and her pale skin glows under the fluorescent beam of the hospital lights; she could pass for my older sister. "Isabella?" she says. "I know it's a lot to take in. Do you have any questions for me?"

"It's just 'Bella'," I say because she seems like she's trying. Then I shake my head.

"Are you sure? If you don't have any now, you can ask at any time. My name is Dr. Angela Weber. You can have your nurse page me if you need anything."

"Why do I have so many doctors?" This makes her smile.

"The resident is the one who admitted you, he's a general pediatrician, likely not the same resident you'll see on rounds. He's just on call tonight. I'm one of the oncology fellows, meaning I've finished residency but I'm specializing. Dr. G is the attending physician, meaning he's in charge." She pauses as I nod my head. "Any questions about leukemia or chemo?"

"When will my hair fall out?" I whisper, then bite my lip, exasperated at my shallowness. "A typical teenage question, I guess?"

Dr. Weber smiles again, the warmth reaching her eyes. "It varies. My sister's fell out after a few months. It will grow back." I look down at the floor. "I know it sucks," she adds. "Sometimes scarves and hats help a lot."

"Um," I hesitate. I want to ask about her sister, but I have something more important to ask before my parents return. "They did a bunch of tests at the doctor's office yesterday...Do my parents know about all of them?"

She nods her head, knowingly, but her answer is opposite of her actions. "No. They know all the tests relating to the leukemia, but they don't know about the pregnancy test."

After Dr. Weber leaves, my dad comes in briefly to say goodnight, then my mom shuffles around the room gathering her pajamas since she's going to spend the night with me. She starts to cry every time she looks up at me, and she keeps trying to talk to me about what's going on, but I cut her off saying repeatedly "It's too much right now, Mom." She doesn't stop until I walk over and hug her tightly.

I fall asleep thinking about long words that don't mean anything to me. Words I can't spell. Names of chemotherapy drugs that soon will be familiar to my mind, to my body. I dream of dividing cells, picturing phases of mitosis from my biology class. Prophase. Metaphase. Anaphase. Soon the cell phases swirl in my brain and become patterns on a scarf. Silky pink and white, paler than my skin.

-0-

The same nurse as the night before, Sue, comes in my room shortly after my parents leave for the night. I'm staring at the ceiling again, even though the t.v. is on and I have my old copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ lying next to me. I stop counting ceiling tiles to look up at her. Sue is a petite Asian woman with short dark brown hair with almost white blond streaks in it. Last night her hair was combed neatly, the soft locks barely touching her neck. Tonight it is stiff with hair gel, short spikes waving all over the place. Her make-up is thick and her eyeshadow is the same bright green shade of her scrubs.

"I just started my shift," she says as she walks in and drags over the blood pressure machine. "How was your day, Bella? Any pain, honey?"

"No."

She glances at my face to see if I'm being honest or stubborn. "Sometimes the biopsies can hurt for the first day or so."

"I'm fine. Just bored."

"Well, why did you send your mom home then?" she asks after she finishes examining me. "You know she's allowed to spend the night?"

"Yeah, in a crappy _cot_," I retort, then regret it immediately. "Besides, I needed some down time," I add in a softer voice, thinking of all my relatives who called that day and my friends who visited after school got out.

She looks at me carefully. "You know since you haven't started chemo yet, and you're not having fevers or anything, you can probably hang out in the teen room..."

"I don't feel like talking to anyone..." I start.

She shakes her head, interrupting me mid-thought. "There aren't any other teens on the floor right now, and only patients from this floor are allowed there...I'll just bring you the key and you can go later if you want."

-0-

The teen room is narrow with a long couch facing a large flat screen t.v. On the other side are two armchairs and scattered deflated bean bags leaning against built in book shelves. The bookshelves are divided between DVDs, video games, then books and magazines. Unlike my hospital room and the corridors, there is cheap, flat carpet in the room—the kind that won't impede the wheels of an IV pole or wheelchair.

Sue is right—the room is empty—yet more inviting and comfortable than my hospital room. I'm alternating between attempting to play _Grand Turismo_ and reading a few paragraphs of my book when I hear an odd tap at the door to my right. I glance and can see a leg in a black cast and one crutch being lifted up to knock at the glass door once again. I sigh, then get up to open the door for the intruder. I look up fully to see the other person's face, then pause momentarily. His reddish brown hair is tousled, waving all over the place like Sue's except without the stiffness of the hair gel. Like he must have been tossing and turning in his hospital bed, restless and bored like me. I push my annoyance aside at the interruption when I realize that he's in the same situation as I am.

"Hi," I say softly, then bite my lip as I hold the door open for him.

"Thank God someone's here tonight. I thought I'd never get in again," he smiles as he swings his crutches through the doorway.

"Wait, you don't have your key?" I look him straight in the eyes, shyness dissipating, and notice that they are a light shade of green.

"They never give me one," he says simply. "Edward Cullen, by the way." He reaches his hand out from one of his crutches as he pauses in front of me.

"Bella Swan," I wave at him, rather than take his hand. We stand awkwardly for a moment before he continues to crutch over to the other side of the couch. I watch him place his right leg slowly up on the small coffee table, then I settle myself back down and pick my book back up. I peek over the pages at him, and notice that his cast actually goes all the way past his knee, that he's wearing cutoff khakis—likely to accommodate the cast—and that his green t-shirt is several shades darker than his eyes. In that moment I am glad that I refused to wear a hospital gown too. I feel embarrassed enough in my torn up pajama pants and faded old school No Doubt tee.

He scowls at the t.v. screen, then back at me. "Are you playing or reading?" he asks-his words more gentle than his initial scowl-as he gestures towards the screen.

"Um...both. Sorry," I say, while reaching out to hand him one of the video game controls so he doesn't have to move his cast. "Uh, my nurse said there weren't any other teens on the floor so..."

"Thanks," he interrupts me. Our fingers lightly graze as I hand him the controller and I pull back immediately at the electric shock between us. _Must be me shuffling my feet on the carpet again_, I think as I feel my face flush nonetheless. "Wanna race?"

"Sure, but I suck," I say, slightly surprised by his invitation. "My, uh, friend was trying to teach me how to play but I'm not that coordinated..."

"Not that coordinated?"

"Yeah. See all the bruises?" I gesture at my arms and legs, even though my pajama pants cover those bruises. Then it hits me. I _had _ been getting more bruises lately...

He glances at my arms, then answers with a smile, "Maybe your _friend_ just wasn't teaching you right. You only need to use your hands." His smile is sort of crooked and compliments his strong jaw line. I can't help but smile back. I feel comfortable around Edward immediately, something not that common for me with guys. Edward teaches me how to play the car racing game again as we banter back and forth. Before I know it, an hour passes and I've even managed to beat him. He smiles again as he congratulates me.

"_Finally_," he says. "I thought we were going to have to play all night!" I toss my book at him and he catches it before it hits his chest.

"See, I told you I was uncoordinated. I can't even throw right to hit you." We laugh together and are interrupted by a knock on the glass door. Sue unlocks the door and just pokes her head in, her gelled hair spikes hardly budging with the movement.

"How are you feeling, Bella?" she asks. "In any pain?" And, just like that, I'm back to reality. I shake my head. "Ok, just let me know if you need anything or stop by the nurses' station when you come back to your room." She pauses when she looks at Edward.

"I'm not sick," he says quickly. "Just had knee surgery again." He points to his cast as evidence. "I won't get her sick."

Sue nods her head minutely and says, "Ok. I'll allow it this time, Edward," then closes the door gently.

I turn back towards him, the easy rapport between us while playing the game gone. Something doesn't feel right and I can't pinpoint it. Maybe it's just because I'm sitting alone in a room with a stranger. A beautiful stranger. Maybe it's because I've just found out I have cancer. Maybe it's because I haven't accepted what it means yet.

"Do you have cancer?" I finally say after several minutes of silence while Edward and I stare each other down.

"No. I, uh, have had a bunch of knee surgeries, though, so some of the nurses know me." That was it. Sue knew his name.

"And you can't come to the teen room when you're sick?"

"Yeah, it's supposed to be for cancer patients...and sometimes they let other patients in if they don't have something infectious."

"Oh," I pause. "So...you've been here before? Been admitted before?"

"A few times." He looks at the ground as he says this, and I'm uncertain what that means. I ponder whether or not to return to my room, but know that I won't be able to sleep yet. Finally I decide that it doesn't matter. I don't know who Edward is. I don't know where my future lies. I don't know how the chemo will affect me, when I'll lose my hair, or if I'll graduate from high school. I don't know how long I will live, so I decide to just have a normal conversation with a boy.

"So, what high school do you go to?" I ask.

Edward looks up at me with a relieved smile and answers, "Newport. You?"

"You'll laugh," I say. "It's an all girl school—Covenant."

He raises one eyebrow and says, "The one by the college?"

"Yup. The one on the hill." _Please don't say my school's nickname. Please don't be a jerk and say it. _

"Huh. So...no guys at all?"

"Well, we have a 'brother' school on the other side of town—that's all boys." He laughs. "How old are you?" I add before he can ask the next question.

"Seventeen. You?"

"Sixteen. I'm a junior. Brothers or sisters?"

"One brother, Emmett. He's two years older than me. My sister, Alice, is the same age as you."

"I'm an only child. My parents were young when they had me. They almost got divorced when I was two, but then they moved here to California and my mom was happier." I'm not sure why I add the last part, but I can't stop myself from going on. "We were living in a small town in Washington, and I think the gloomy weather was getting to her. What colleges are-"

"Bella," he interrupts me. I shake my head, not wanting him to change the casual tone of our conversation. "Is this your first admission?" I nod my head and look down at the ground. "Bella," he continues, attempting to get me to look back up at him. "Do _you_ have cancer?"

Cancer. The word hangs between us, even as he simply echoes my own question. I look up at him. His green eyes feel like they are burning into me, willing me to speak. "Yes," I whisper.

Edward carefully lifts his leg down off the coffee table and scoots closer to me on the couch. As he gets closer, I feel the static electricity hum between us, like earlier, as if sparks are flying from one cell to another. He places one arm around me and I let him as I bury my head in his chest. The sparks flash warmly at every point of contact. "I have leukemia," I say quietly. "They don't know how bad it is yet. I just found out yesterday and had my biopsy today." I tell him about my suspicions—about the nausea, about the fainting, about the bruises. I even tell him about the pregnancy test. No one except for my doctors know about that. No one, not my closest friend, Rosalie, not even Jake. Especially not Jake. As I talk, tears stream quietly down my cheeks but I can't get myself to care. I don't feel embarrassed that I've just revealed myself to someone I've just met; I simply feel relieved.

"I'm sorry," I finally say when the tears have slowed down. "I guess I didn't realize I was holding it in. My mom can't stop crying so I've been trying to be strong for her." As I say the words, I realize that they are true. I've been taking care of my mom for so long that _I_ was trying to protect_ her_ from my own feelings of fear.

"It's okay," he says, then wraps his other arm around me as well. After a moment, he clears his throat then asks, "So who was the lucky guy? Your boyfriend?"

I laugh. Of course it would be the sex that he focused on. He _is_ a seventeen year old boy, afterall. "No one special," I say. "Someone from my school."

"Bella, you know you can't get pregnant from another girl, right?" he actually smirks at me.

I lean back from him to smack his arm. "It wasn't a _girl_! He goes to my 'brother' school, Benedict. He's a friend of my friend's boyfriend."

"Lucky bastard," he murmurs so low that I'm not sure if I'm supposed to hear it. I burst into tears again, absurdly and ironically both sad and happy. Sad that I didn't wait until it _was_ with someone special, but happy that I wouldn't die a virgin. Edward rocks me gently until this round of tears ends and I cannot cry any longer. Then he insists on walking me back to my room even though he is on crutches. Sue waves at us from the nurses' station as I get back, a wide smile on her face. I watch Edward slowly make his way back down the hallway towards the elevators, the rhythmic click of his crutches singing on the linoleum floor.

That night I dream of tears falling down cheeks, but instead of _my_ cheeks, they belong to someone with a crooked smile. My small fingers wipe the tears away and trace the salty lines along the planes of his face. Soon the tears turn into rain—the soft, steady, pounding rain of my childhood home that I no longer remember. Sheets pouring down a lush, mossy forest, just slightly less verdant than a certain somebody's bright eyes.

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><p><strong>AN: **The last sentence is in reference to Darcy describing Elizabeth's eyes in _Pride and Prejudice._


	3. Chapter 2: Phone Calls

**Chapter 2**

**Phone calls**

In the early light of the morning, my embarrassment settles in. Nothing seems the same anymore. Whereas last night I felt relief—and a certain closeness to Edward—this morning I feel flushed and embarrassed, and like the school girl that I am. Specks of rain drops cling to the panes of my tinted hospital room windows, making linear patterns. A rare day of rain in Southern California. The weather matches my mood. I'm sure my eyes are puffy from crying the night before—crying in Edward's arms with no shame.

_Edward._ I think about how easily I opened up to him, how I told him exactly how I was feeling and he accepted it. I think about his arms around me, and how I never felt that comfortable—or that electricity—with Jake. I guess it's understandable; I don't really know Jake that well. Rosalie had begged me to go out with them so we could double date with her and Royce. I think about how Rose raved about how Jake was almost as knowledgeable about cars as she was. How I felt obligated to at least _try_ to date him; I had never really felt interested in any of the guys we knew from Benedict High.

With Edward, I feel different. I feel giddy and vulnerable and alive. Alive. Even though I don't know exactly what I'm facing yet. Even though it's been a crazy and surreal week so far and I've been given the worst news I have ever been given. Somehow I feel hopeful. I remind myself to call my mom to bring me some regular clothes; suddenly staying in pajamas all day doesn't seem appropriate. I drift off to sleep again and wake up to the shrill ring of the hospital phone.

"Rosalie!" I mumble into the phone. "Stop waking me before you go to school—I slept horribly again."

"I'm sorry to hear that," a velvety voice responds. "I slept rather well after having such a fun evening."

"What?" I sit up suddenly, accidentally pulling at the IV tubing on my arm. "Ow!"

"Bella, did I wake you?" Edward asks, laughing.

"Yeah, I woke up early from the rain, I guess, then fell back asleep."

"Sorry about that," he apologizes, not sounding sorry at all. "It's just...my doctor just came by and said they're taking off my cast today so I think I'm going home this afternoon...Uh, is it okay if I stop by your room before I go?"

I smile and nod my head, forgetting that he can't hear me. Then I verbally agree and hang up the phone just as my mom walks in. Her eyes start to tear instantly when she sees me rub my IV site that I pulled a bit on. I inspect it carefully to make sure I haven't pulled it out all the way but I can't tell. There's nothing running through it—just placed for chemo—so I'll have to wait until my day nurse comes in to check it.

"Does it hurt, Bella?" Renee asks, her voice nasal from the constant crying.

"Nah, I just don't know if it's out—I don't want them to have to poke me again."

"Well," she pauses. "Charlie and I were talking about that more permanent IV, the one they put in your chest?"

"Port-a-cath?" I ask, remembering what Dr. Weber called it.

"Yeah...I think they're going to put it in this morning, if that's okay with you." And there you have it, the crux of my relationship with my mother. Of course, I'm old enough that they should respect my decisions too, especially since it's my body. But with my mom and her flakiness and her flare for the dramatic, I will be the one making the major decisions regarding my leukemia.

"That's fine, Mom," I say. "I guess I shouldn't eat this morning then..."

Renee breathes a sigh of relief then responds, "I'll be here with you this morning, then I'm going to go home in the afternoon so I can cook you some dinner. I'm sure you're sick of hospital food."

"Are you sure, Mom?" I laugh, remembering her last attempt at cooking. I usually do the cooking in the house since Renee tends to get a little experimental. Not in a good way.

"Yeah, unless you want me to stay? I can stay if you don't want to be alone."

"I won't be alone," I confess. "Rose is going to drop off my homework, and one of my friends from here is stopping by before he goes home."

"_He?_" she asks, smiling for the first time this week.

I roll my eyes. "Edward is just a _friend, _Renee," I respond, using her first name as a warning. "And he's being discharged—it's not like I'll see him again. He's just here for surgery." _He's not a chronic patient like me._

"Hmm, I wonder why he's stopping by then if you won't see him again-" she stops as I glare at her.

-0-

In the end I miss Rosalie's visit entirely. I groggily open my eyes as I feel something cold on my chest, and look up to see a blurry Dr. Weber listening to my heart. She then inspects the clear tape covering my new port-a-cath on my chest then buttons up my hospital gown, and whispers, "Sorry, Bella, I didn't mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep."

"No, it's okay," I respond hoarsely. "I don't want to sleep the day away. I won't be able to sleep tonight. My eyes are starting to focus, and I notice that Dr. Weber is in dressier clothes under her white coat, unlike the first night I was admitted.

"Okay," she says. "Well, how are things going? Are your parents here?"

"Um, my mom must have gone home. They'll be back around dinnertime. You can tell me any updates. I'll tell them."

"There's nothing new really..." She explains about the port-a-cath and how it can be accessed whenever I'm in the hospital and when I come to the clinic for outpatient chemo. She goes through the chemo schedule again—listing blocks of time and all I can think about is how I'm going to miss most of my junior year. She sits down on the edge of my bed and somehow knows the question on the tip of my tongue, as she points to a stack of assignments and school books that Rosalie must have dropped off for me. "You're going to miss a lot of school... You can homeschool if you choose to, but somehow I think you're not going to want to."

"No," I shake my head. "I'd rather be with my friends. I go to a private school—maybe they'll let me make some adjustments?"

"I can call your school and also have Dr. G write you a letter."

"Thanks," I pause. "Um, Dr. Weber? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. And, please call me Angela."

"Well, you...uh...mentioned that your sister had cancer too?"

She nods her head in understanding. "Yeah, she was your age when she was diagnosed too. You remind me a lot of her; she had your same coloring, and she liked to read too." She waves her hand at my copies of _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Cannery Row_ that are lying separate from my school things. "She also was a big fan of No Doubt." She smiles slightly at the last admission.

"Saw my pajamas, huh?" I say. "Yeah, I pretty much grew up on them since they're from the area. My mom discovered them from her ska phase when we first moved here. Before they were huge."

"We used to go to their shows," she says quietly.

I think about her statements. _Was_ a fan. "She didn't make it, did she?"

"No, she died when she was eighteen," Angela says, keeping eye contact with me. "She inspired me to become a doctor, a pediatric oncologist."

"What's her name?" I ask. Somehow it seems important.

"June."

I nod, not sure what else to say. "Bella," she continues in my silence. "It doesn't mean that you're going to die too. There are so many new therapies since then and—" We're interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by Edward walking in immediately. "Hi Edward," Angela says and waves at him. _She knows his name too._

"Dr. Weber, Bella. Am I interrupting?" he continues further into the room despite his words. I notice that his cast is replaced by a soft brace and that—most notably—he is without the crutches.

"No, I was just leaving," Angela says as I say "no" at the same time. She turns to me as she pulls something out of her white coat pocket. "Bella, I'd like you to have this, if it's okay. It's similar to one I got June when she was first diagnosed." She hands me a silk scarf with an abstract pink and white watercolor-like print on it.

"Thanks, Angela," I manage to say, just slightly blushing, as she walks out. I'm uncomfortable receiving gifts, especially from my doctor. But I know it must mean a lot to her—like her sister, herself, was giving me this scarf.

Edward sits down in the plastic chair next to my bed. His proximity makes me realize that I have nothing on but my hospital gown and shorts, which increases the heat in my lingering blush. I don't know how long I have left with him, however, so I push the embarrassment out of my mind. I fiddle with the buttons on the side rail, trying to get myself from a lying to a sitting position but manage to make my legs raise higher instead.

"Here, let me help," he says, grinning while leaning over towards the bed. "There are pictures to help you see which buttons to push, you know."

"Hey, I'm still buzzed from my anesthesia," I retort. As he settles me into a sitting position, I take the liberty of blatantly staring at his profile. He looks even more beautiful in the natural light of day that is pouring through my windows. I'm grateful that the harsh fluorescent lights of my room are off so that he can't see all the imperfections of my skin. I'm sure I look like hell after the surgery, no matter how minor. He leans back in his chair and looks back up at my staring eyes.

"Chocolate," he says. "Your eyes are chocolate brown."

"Huh?" I say, then snap out of his intense gaze. "Yeah, I've been told that before." I shrug. "Yours are like a forest."

"You look tired." It's a nice way of saying I look like crap, which I've already assumed. "I should let you rest."

I sigh. He's already saying goodbye. "Okay, well, it was nice meeting you?"

"Bella, I'm not leaving," he smirks. "They said I have to stay until tomorrow."

"What? Why? Your cast is off." I'm confused.

"It's complicated," is all he replies before he stands up. "I'll see you tonight? We can see how well you retained your skills at _Grand Turismo_." The crooked smile is back, but blurring a bit as I feel my eyes getting heavy again. Damn anesthesia. I nod as he walks out. My last thought as I drift off to sleep is that he must have let me beat him last night.

-0-

I wake up to an overwhelming scent of melted chocolate. Usually this makes my mouth water, but instead I have this violent urge to vomit the empty contents of my stomach. Luckily I fell asleep in a sitting position, and I clumsily reach over to the hospital tray table and grab the kidney shaped throw up bin. I manage to only drop two books in my reach, _and_ I manage to get the bin under my chin in time to catch yellow fluid.

"See, Renee, I told you it would be too much. Why don't you set that plate outside her room," Charlie says as he picks up my books. My mom looks remorseful as she steps outside my room momentarily.

"What is it this time?" I ask when I'm done heaving.

"Beef enchiladas with some chocolate sauce," he says laughing. "I think she was trying to come up with a different way of making _mole_ sauce."

"I was not!" Renee interjects. "I was just trying to come up with a new creation."

"Sorry, Mom. The anesthesia really did a number on me." I pause. "Oh. Maybe it's the chemo?"

"We can tell your nurse so she can give you something for the nausea," Charlie says. "In the meantime..." He taps a plastic bag he's holding. "I brought you some of that vietnamese chicken noodle soup that you like so much."

"Thanks, Dad. Maybe I'll just have the broth." I smile because Charlie knows me and Renee so well.

The three of us slurp our soup noisily after Renee helps me change out of my gown and into a t-shirt and yoga pants, and after my nurse gives me some medicine in my IV to balance out the nausea. I groan at the t-shirt Renee has brought for me to wear, an old Covenant High one. Still, it's better than the gown.

"Mom, can you bring some of my nicer clothes for me to wear tomorrow? Maybe something that buttons so it'll be easier to put on? And my favorite jeans?" I ask and Renee smiles knowingly at me.

"Sure, Bells," she says, excitedly. "Do you have someone visiting you tomorrow?" Charlie glances between us apprehensively.

"Um, just my friend. He's going home tomorrow instead. Relax, Dad, he's just another patient here," I add the last bit in the hopes that it will stop Charlie from asking questions.

"Yeah, a _friend_ who keeps visiting you..." Renee trails off as I glare at her. I notice Charlie press his lips together as he ponders Renee's demeanor. It's been a long week for all of us. Renee's eyelids are puffy, but there is a sparkle there that wasn't present earlier. He drops the overprotective father stance and nods once.

-0-

As soon as Sue starts her shift in the evening, I press my call button to beg her to give me the teen room key. I've managed to keep my dinner—well, chicken broth—down, but I'm uncertain if they'll still let me go. Sue walks in and I immediately notice that the blond streaks have been replaced with bright pink contrasting her short dark hair, and that it is pulled back into the tiniest pigtails. Her almond shaped eyes have rather thick eyeliner outlining them.

"Don't ask," she says, laughing, as she waves at the matching bright pink scrubs that she's wearing. "Let's just say that it's a good thing I love my sister."

"I'm feeling better," I respond. "Can I _please_ go to the teen room? My parents left for the night and I have nothing to do."

"Bella, didn't you throw up this afternoon? Anymore nausea?"

"Not since the other nurse gave me that medicine. _Please?_ I'm supposed to meet someone there."

"Edward?"

"Yes."

"You know, last night was the first time I've ever seen him laugh. I even asked the other nurses about it—he rarely even smiles when he's here."

"I noticed he knows some people here. I guess that's from his knee surgeries?"

"Uh, well, I'm not usually on his floor," she says slowly. "I usually only have cancer patients, unless it's slow here and busy up on the other floors. Edward likes to roam the halls though so everyone knows him." She glances over at me, then continues, "Ok, I'll let you go for an hour or so. But you have to bring this with you just in case, and you have to come back sooner if you have any more vomiting." She hands me a throw up bin and the key and I give her a quick hug before walking down the hall.

The lights are already on in the narrow room as I approach and I can hear music playing as loudly as possible for being in a hospital. I glance at my watch after peeking through the glass door. Edward isn't there yet, and I'm on a time limit. A guy with blond wavy hair hanging almost past his ears is sitting on one of the bean bags with his eyes closed. He's tapping his feet to the beat so I know that he's not asleep. He looks oddly familiar, so I decide to go in. The clock's ticking whether Edward is here or not.

"Hey," I call out, raising my voice so he can hear me over the music.

He opens his eyes. "A Covenant girl," he says with a hint of a southern accent, nodding at my shirt. He picks up a remote and turns down the volume on the stereo.

"You know Covenant?"

"I'm a Benedict boy," he laughs, somewhat echoing his earlier statement. "You look familiar. What's your name?"

"Bella Swan."

"Ah. Jake's girl, right? I'm Jasper Whitlock." He salutes me as he says his name.

I laugh, despite my mortification at his assumption. He's strange but a good strange. "I'm not Jake's girl," I say. "He's just a friend."

"Hmm. I thought I heard otherwise." He shrugs. "Care to join me?"

I stumble once on my journey over to one of the other bean bags near him. I choose one so that I can sit perpendicular to Jasper, near enough to talk and at an angle where I can see the door easily. I place the kidney shaped bin between us, along with the key. We sit and listen to some music for awhile as we try to figure out any common acquaintances. Jasper is easy to talk to; he has a calm rather than arrogant demeanor, unlike most of the guys I've met from his school. Eventually he swats my left hand playfully as I turn my wrist to look at my watch again.

"You're making me nervous, Bella. Are you waiting for someone?"

"No," I deny vehemently. "Uh, maybe-"

"Who is it?"

"Um, do you know Edward?"

His face suddenly lights up as I say his name, then he manages to look nonchalant. "Everyone knows Edward." I nod. "How well do you know him?"

"Uh, well, we, uh, we just met yesterday-" I stammer but he interrupts me.

"Do you know his sister?"

"No." I'm blushing. Everyone knows Edward. Edward knows everyone. He was just being friendly. Maybe he forgot to meet me? Maybe he's hanging out with his girlfriend? He must have a girlfriend.

"She's great," he says, and I look back up at him. "I mean, she's hot." The latter part doesn't sound like something he would say.

"Yeah, well, Edward mentioned Alice yesterday but he didn't add that part."

"I would hope not," he laughs. "Hey, maybe you can help me?"

"Sure," I answer. "With what?"

"Maybe you can put a good word in for me."

"I really don't know Edward that well," I say. I don't want him to get the wrong idea.

"Any little bit helps," he says, then adds after a moment. "He's...kind of a hard person to get to know...he's complicated."

"I wouldn't think you'd be scared of him."

"I'm not!" Jasper practically shouts. "I'm scared of _her_." He tones the last statement way down so that it almost comes out as a whisper. I realize that he's being very open with me, especially considering we just met. I'm not ready to reciprocate so I do the next best thing.

"Then why don't you just ask out a Covenant girl? I'm sure I could find _someone_ for you," I tease. There's a knock on the door, and Jasper gets up quickly and gracefully. Me, on the other hand—I try to get up since I see Edward and his beautiful bronze locks on the other side of the door, but I tumble backwards into my bean bag. Jasper has already opened the door by the time I finally get up again.

"Maybe I will," Jasper says, glancing between Edward and me. "Since 'Catholic school girls rule' and all that. Right, Edward?" He grins. I roll my eyes; the Red Hot Chili Peppers song has been quoted to me a lot by Benedict boys.

Edward grunts at him, and looks awkward for a moment before saying, "Hey, Jazz, haven't seen you in a while." He looks back at me and Jasper as Jasper makes his way back to his bean bag and sits down in an unceremonious plop. "I didn't know you two knew each other," he says slowly.

"We don't," I say. "We didn't, I mean. Jasper and I just met. We kind of go to school together—well, he's at Benedict."

"Yeah, Edward, your girl and I were just listening to some music," Jasper adds.

Of course I blush. I'm still standing so I lean over and smack Jasper lightly on the arm. "Stop labeling me as someone's possession. First Jake, then Edward..."

"See what I mean, Edward?" Jasper laughs. "All girl schools crank out feminist nazi tirades. Relax, Bella, I was just teasing Edward."

Edward still stands awkwardly near the door. I'm not sure if his discomfort is from his knee or not, so I ask, "How's the brace?"

"It's okay." His face holds none of the warmth from last night or earlier today. I frown.

"Do you still wanna play?" I gesture towards the television and game console as I walk over towards the couch.

"No. I'm tired now." He turns and walks out the door, leaving me wondering what just happened.

-0-

Forty-five minutes after I receive an incredible pep talk from Rosalie, I am still staring at the phone in my room. I went over every minute detail of meeting Edward, including the way he held me when I was crying. _Just do it_, she'd said. _So what if you end up making a fool of yourself? What's the worst that could happen? You'll never see him again._ The worst that could happen is that I'll never see Edward again.

I take a deep breath, then dial his room number. The line is busy so I hang up, count to thirty, and dial again.

"Alice, I said I'm fine. I'm not going to-"

"Edward, it's Bella," I say quickly.

"Bella," he breathes. I love the way he says my name. "How did you know which room to call?"

"I have my sources..."

"Sue," he says.

"Look, I'm sorry if I did something wrong," I start before I lose my nerve. "I thought we were going to hang out, and then you just left and-"

"Bella, what did Jasper tell you?" he interrupts. I think about our conversation about his sister.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," he pauses. "Did he tell you why he's here?"

"Something about his kidneys. Nephrotic something or other?"

"Did he tell you why _I'm_ here?"

"I already know why you're here, Edward. Your surgery." What an odd question to ask. Was he worried that Jasper could get me sick? Could _he_ get me sick? "Why? Is there something else, like Jasper has something I could catch?"

"No." We're both silent for a few moments, and all I can hear is his breathing.

"Will you stop by before you go home tomorrow?" I ask, surprised at my own courage.

"Uh, sure. My sister wants to meet you anyway, if that's okay?" He sounds relieved. I feel nervous and excited at his statement. Alice wants to meet me? Maybe I _can_ help Jasper after all.

"You told her about me?"

"Why wouldn't I tell her about you?"

_Because I'm plain and you're beautiful? Because of what happened earlier?_ I'm not sure how to interpret his hot and cold behavior. "Because you don't know me that well?" I finally say, not being able to stop answering his questions with more questions.

He laughs. "Okay, well, then, tell me something about yourself that nobody else knows. And you still haven't answered my question—can I bring Alice to meet you?"

"Of course. I'd love to meet her...as for the other part, that's harder. Can it be something that _most_ people don't know instead?" I fiddle with the coiled cord of the phone as I talk to him.

"I'll allow it." His statement is so formal that it's endearing.

"Okay, um, well this is kind of stupid, but it's the only thing I can think of right now ...only my parents and my best friend, Rosalie, know that I decided to stay at Covenant even after my parents said I could transfer to a public school after my freshman year." I don't want to mention the fact that he already is the only person I've told about the pregnancy test.

"So?"

"Most of my friends would have jumped at the chance to be at a co-ed school instead."

"So, why did you stay?"

"Well, my mom enrolled me there after her 'discovery of religions' kick. She got really into Catholicism the year before I started high school and thought that it might be good for me to learn about religion too. Then she discovered _other_ religions and realized that she probably shouldn't have forced me there. I already had friends there and didn't feel like starting over."

"Sounds reasonable."

"Yeah, the funny thing is that Renee is Buddhist now. Okay, your turn."

"Well, mine doesn't have a long story, but none of my friends know that I listen to classical music."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I played piano for a long time—it's been a while now since I stopped playing—and I guess I just enjoyed a lot of the pieces."

"Sounds reasonable," I repeat his earlier statement. "Why don't you play piano anymore?"

"I don't know," he whispers.

"Will you play for me sometime? I heard that there's a piano in the lobby..."

"We'll see," he says, sounding slightly embarrassed. I decide to change the topic.

"Ok, what is something that _everyone _knows about you that I don't know yet?"

"That's easy. Everyone knows that I'm adopted. You'd figure it out soon enough when you meet Alice tomorrow, but I look nothing like my brother and sister."

"How old were you when you were adopted?"

"I was five. My mom and Alice's mom were sisters. So Emmett, Alice and I are actually cousins, but we still look nothing alike. Your turn."

I'm still pondering his revelation. I guess it would be too good to be true if there were actually two of him so it makes sense that his brother doesn't look like him. "Hmm, I'm clumsy?"

"That's not fair—I already know that about you."

"Okay, um, I was nominated for Homecoming princess for my class this year, but I withdrew my name." I blush as I admit this. I'm not even sure why I'm sharing this with him, maybe I thrive on humiliation. But, it's true that everyone knows that I withdrew—a lot of girls at my school gave me crap about it, not to mention that my mom felt I ruined all her fun.

"Not into the mainstream?" he asks.

"No, that's not it. Besides the fact that I don't go to dances, I just thought it was some kind of joke. Like a prank. Besides I don't like being the center of attention."

"Why would you think it was a joke?"

"Have you seen me?" I ask.

"Bella, you're beautiful," Edward says softly.

I snort. "You have to say that now that I've told you."

"You don't see yourself clearly." I'm definitely blushing _harder_ now, if that's even possible.

"Well, anyway," I continue all in a rush. "The sad part is that I have to go to the dance now anyway because Rosalie was next on the list and so I have to go support her and all that." I don't add that I don't have a date yet or that I've already turned down two offers.

"Who's Jake?" he asks, out of nowhere. Or maybe he could read my mind. Why did Jasper have to mention his name?

"That's not a two-way question," I object. I don't want to get into the details.

"Come on...I promise I'll play the piano for you if you answer."

I'm not sure if he realizes that he's already asked about Jake the night before. I suppose that I might as well tell him so I just dive right in. "Jake is someone I sort of dated."

"Is he the one?" Edward sounds almost angry with his vague question. I know what he's asking, however, and I decide to be truthful again.

"Yes," I whisper, then more loudly, "It was a mistake. We only did it that one time."

We continue asking each other questions late into the night, until Sue comes to check on my vitals again and suggests that I sleep a bit. My eyes are getting heavy, anyway, and I want to be somewhat awake when Rosalie visits tomorrow.

"What are you most afraid of?" Edward asks one last question.

"I'm not afraid of dying," I answer truthfully.

"You're not afraid of dying?" he repeats, incredulous.

"No. There's so much more. I'm afraid of losing my hair but that's not my biggest fear. I'm afraid of leaving my mom and dad all alone. I'm afraid that if I survive, I'll never have children of my own." I yawn again. Edward is quiet and I think for a moment that he's fallen asleep. "Edward," I whisper, in case he _is_ alseep, "What are you most afraid of?"

"I'm afraid I'm falling for you," he whispers back so softly that I'm unsure if I've heard him correctly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** What are _you_ most afraid of?


	4. Chapter 3: Going Home

**A/N:** Thank you for reading this story and especially to those of you reviewing and adding to faves. I appreciate it! I'm up to Chap 18 on Twilighted and I plan to update here to catch up by the end of this week. (I'm taking the time to re-read and proofread again as I'm trying to get my muse back for the final chapters.)

Thank you also to pomme_de_terre for pre-reading and to Jennde for validating on Twilighted.

I don't own Twilight or the characters, but I did string these words together...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**Going Home**

I've barely finished breakfast when a girl who's even shorter than I am sashays into my room. I push my tray away, and she smiles widely. Her dark hair is tousled all over the place, and I smile back as I realize that she does look like her cousin/adopted brother in some way. When she gets closer, I notice that the spikes are more artfully arranged than I originally thought, as if she's done it on purpose. "Bella," she sing songs, "I'm so excited to finally meet you. We're going to be great friends, I just know it." She wraps her arms around me and I can't help but giggle at the surrealness of the situation. It's so unreal it's almost a stereotype.

"Sorry about that," Edward's velvety voice interrupts our embrace as he walks in slowly. "The brace slows me down a bit and Alice was too excited to wait for me." He glares pointedly at his sister, then introduces her to me. "Bella, this is Alice. Alice, this is Bella."

"I think we've figured that out already," I laugh. _What, no hug from you too?_ As if he can read my mind, Edward hesitates a moment, then wraps one arm around me and squeezes gently. It would feel awkward except that the strange electricity that was present the other night surges between us. I was wondering if it was a one time feeling from that night, but if anything the humming feels so much more vibrant that I'm sure it is palpable to even Alice. Her eyes twinkle, confirming my suspicions.

We chat for a few minutes before Alice says in rapid succession, "We should go—our parents are waiting in the lobby. Unless you want to meet them today too? Or maybe another day? I'm sure Edward would love to have you come over to our house once you're discharged." I laugh at her vibrancy. Her voice is musical and comes out in short bursts of energy whereas Edward's speech is more deliberate and steady.

Edward turns to glare at her, then shrugs it off. "Maybe another time. Why don't you go tell them I'll be down in a minute?" He stares at her pointedly.

"Okay," she says. "Hope to see you _soon_, Bella."

Edward watches Alice walk out, then turns back to me. "I guess I should have warned you."

"Why? She seems sweet," I laugh. "She seems like she really cares about you."

"Yeah," he shrugs again. "So, when are you going home?"

"Angela said likely in a few days. But I don't really know. I'm hoping that she's right—I'd love to be home for part of the weekend and be able to go back to school on Monday." I never thought I'd miss going to school but I've been gone all week and the thought of doing something so _normal_ like going to school seems so appealing.

"I know what you mean. It's hard losing the routine. So….is it okay if I come visit you, then?" he asks, tentatively.

"Of course." I break out into a wide smile and am rewarded by his charming sort of crooked one.

The rest of the day blends into the other hospital days. There's not much to break up the time and I long to go home. My mom joins me soon after the Cullens leave and is disappointed to hear that she missed meeting Edward. I think it's her main reason for deciding to spend the night at the hospital with me—that and the fact that it's Friday anyway. Rosalie comes to visit me after school and my mom takes that time to go home and get her overnight things.

"Rose," I say. "Do you think he'll really come back to visit me?" She turns around as she pulls on jeans underneath her grey and burgundy plaid uniform skirt, then shimmies the skirt off and turns back to me. She has a red v-neck shirt underneath her white oxford and she takes off the oxford so that she is finally uniform-less. I'm used to the routine—I have a similar one—but I am a little surprised that she didn't change before even coming to the hospital. Normally neither one of us would be caught dead in our uniforms. She must have been in a hurry to visit me.

"Bella, he asked you if it was okay—why wouldn't he visit?" Rosalie answers me.

"I know. Just, if you'd have met him, you'd know what I'm talking about."

"Bella, enough. You don't see yourself clearly."

I look up at her at these words. "That's what he said." She smiles as if to say "See?" and I continue, "I told him about the whole Homecoming thing and he was surprised that I withdrew."

"You wanna take it back?" she asks, serious. "I don't mind." I know that she's sincere. Rosalie is beautiful and she knows it. She doesn't need other people to tell her that.

"No," I say vehemently. "But don't worry. I'll still go to the dance."

"Really?" she replies sarcastically. "Because you've already said no to two guys."

"But I didn't want to go with either of them!"

"Not even Jake? You could go as just friends."

"Especially not Jake!"

"Oh, I see. Maybe you're holding out for someone else? Maybe someone with a _cast_ so you have an excuse not to dance?"

"Rose!" I say, glaring at her. But, the creeping redness on my cheeks gives me away. I really wouldn't mind going to a formal dance with Edward. Cast or not. I just don't want to have to ask him. "Besides, he has a _brace_ now, not a cast."

Rosalie stays with me until my parents return. We all have dinner together, then Charlie leaves, saying he doesn't want to interrupt "girls night". Rosalie leaves then, too, to go to the Benedict football game. My mom and I watch chick flicks until late in the night, like old times, with her tearing up at the end of each one while I giggle at the cheesiness of it all.

-0-

I can't really focus on the ceiling tiles any longer because all I can focus on is the proximity of Edward's body next to me on the bed. The tingling occupies all of my thoughts.

"Hmm," he says, as he gazes up at the hospital ceiling tiles alongside me. "I guess I can see how it would be soothing..."

"It's actually more interesting looking at the ceiling in my room at home," I say. "There are no tiles and the ceiling is scraped. You can find shapes like-"

"Like clouds in the sky?" he interrupts as his lips turn up in that slightly crooked smile.

"Yeah."

"I guess this means I'll have to book some time in your bed there then," he says suggestively. I shove his arm playfully.

We stare at the ceiling a little longer, content with the silence between us. My parents have gone downstairs to the cafeteria for coffee, at Renee's insistence. Almost as soon as Edward arrived—after Charlie gave him the third degree—she winked behind both of their backs and claimed that she needed to go for a walk.

Suddenly there is a knock on the door, and Edward leaps up quickly from my side. Well, as quickly as he can with the brace on. I giggle at the slightly remorseful look on his face. It's the same look most of my friends have once I tell them my dad is a cop. "Come in," I say loudly, then turn to him. "It's not my parents, Edward, why would they knock?" He nods, then places his hands in his pockets.

My door opens slowly and a guy around our age slowly peeks in. "Hi," he says. "Need any coffee or hot cocoa?" He gestures to the rollaway cart in the hallway as he opens the door further. I catch a glimpse of the guy helping him out—it's hard not to notice someone that tall. I gasp in surprise, then groan inwardly. "Bella?" he calls tentatively as he walks past the other volunteer and into my room.

"Yes, it's me, Jake," I say. Jake strolls in further towards my bed as he glances back and forth between Edward and me. Edward is tall—at least six foot two—but Jake beats him by a few inches. Jake smiles easily at the two of us and it doesn't surprise me—he's comfortable in almost any situation, which is what attracted me to him in the first place. Edward doesn't return his smile, and in fact seems to be glaring back at him. "Aren't volunteers supposed to stay outside the rooms?" he says pointedly to him.

Jake stares at him for a moment, then turns to face me. "Bella, I didn't realize you were here, at _this_ hospital. I heard through Royce that you...you know...that you..." he trails off. He doesn't want to say the words. Leukemia. Cancer. Chemo. They are a part of my every day now.

"It's okay, Jake," I say. Inside I'm a little mortified that he already knows. Does everyone at school know now? It makes sense that Rose would tell Royce, so of course Jake would find out. And likely everyone at Covenant would know soon enough since it's such a small school. But I didn't think anyone else would know.

"I'm sorry," he says. Great. Already he's feeling sorry for me.

"It's okay," I repeat, trying to figure out how to change the subject, trying to avoid the pink elephant in the room. "How long have you been volunteering here?"

"Just started," he says. He looks over at Edward who has been watching the exchange between us wordlessly. I did notice that he stepped closer towards my bed, maintaining a space between Jake and me. "I'm Jacob Black, by the way." Jake smiles at Edward and puts out his hand politely.

Edward shakes it quickly. "Edward Cullen," he returns, his tone strained. "Don't you have to finish your candystriping now?"

Jake laughs it off, ignoring Edward's rudeness. "Sure, sure," he says. "Although I'm glad they have us in this rather than those striped dresses." He gestures towards his white polo with the hospital logo embroidered on it. "I'll catch up with you later, Bells," he says on his way out, then he starts to roll the cart away with the other volunteer.

After the door closes, I turn back to face Edward, livid. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" he shrugs as he sits partly on my hospital bed.

"Why were you so rude?"

"Was I rude?"

"Yes," I say, exasperated. Are we really playing this game? It seems so incongruent after the closeness we shared before Jake came in.

"I don't like him," he says, shrugging again.

"You don't know him," I counter. "And you don't have to like him."

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't have to meet all of your _friends_ from school," he says. What is he talking about? Is this about Jake? Jasper? He acted odd that night too, but clearly he knew Jasper before I even met him. "Bella, I'm sorry. I have to go soon—can we...can we not fight while I'm here?"

"Fine," I grumble. I'm not even sure what happened again. "How are you getting home, anyway? I mean, how did you get here? Can you drive with that thing?" I motion over to his brace.

"Alice drove me."

"Oh," I say. "What time is she picking you up? Do you have time to play a game before you go?" I gesture towards the PS3 and piles of games that he brought over for me to borrow.

"She's downstairs waiting for me," he says.

"She's been waiting this whole time?" I say, suddenly feeling guilty. "Why didn't you have her come up? Does she think I don't want to see her?" I can't stop the relentless questions with my nervousness.

"Relax, Bella," he says, smiling. "I just wanted some alone time with you." My heart speeds up slightly. "Besides, she knows how to keep herself busy. I think she's sketching or something. She doesn't mind, trust me."

"Oh. Okay," I think it over for a minute, then am suddenly inspired. "Um, can we go down to say hi? I'm sick of staring at these four walls anyway."

"You mean staring at the _ceiling_, right?" he smirks. I roll my eyes at him, then think about my proximity to him while previously doing said activity just a few moments before. I look down at my phone to hide the pink in my cheeks somewhat and text my mom our plans. We stop by the nurses' station to let them know where I'll be, then head down to the lobby.

Edward and I walk side by side down the brightly colored hallways. Because we are at a children's hospital, there are framed cartoon drawings hanging all around, and several ocean themed murals. I steal glances at him as we wait for the elevator, pretending to study the mural behind him. He's wearing jean shorts this time—just covering part of his knee brace—and an almost threadbare black Replacements tee. His hair is unruly as usual, of course, but somehow it suits him and his look.

As we approach the lobby, I stop mid-stride when I notice Jasper sitting next to Alice, both thoroughly engrossed in her sketchbook. She is talking animatedly as she uses the hand not holding onto the book to point out things and he nods his head in agreement. They don't notice us walking towards them, but Edward pauses to turn towards me with a look I can't interpret. Is he mad that they are talking? Have I drawn to much attention to them by stopping? I will myself forward for Jasper's sake, trying to put in a good word but not sure how.

"Oh, hey, there's Jasper," I say, stating the obvious. "Um, that's nice that he's keeping your sister company?" Damn. Why did I make it sound like a question? Now he's going to think I'm uncertain. "I mean, he's really cool," I add emphatically.

"Yeah," he murmurs, then turns his attention to the security guard next to the lobby entrance. "Hey, Seth, thanks again for letting me in."

"No problem, Edward." The dark skinned guard waves him off in a friendly manner. Huh. I was wondering how he got in without a nametag. Seems like Edward can talk his way into anything.

Jasper finally glances up and stands up to greet us as we approach. He looks slightly guilty, like he's been doing something he shouldn't be. But there's something else I notice about him—underneath his usual calm exterior is a certain excitement in his eyes. He looks almost _giddy_, if you can say that about a teenage boy. I know the feeling, my friend. There is something about these Cullens that brings it out in both of us. I can't help but smile at his giddiness, likely a mirror image of my own.

"What's up, Bella, Edward?" he says nonchalantly, his voice collected despite the spark in his eyes. He salutes us as if he's in military school, just like he did the other night, his own personal salutation.

"Hey," I say as Edward nods his head in greeting.

Alice bounces out of her chair while simultaneously dropping her sketchbook and giving me a quick hug. "Bella!" she breathes. Her actions are so fluid that it is all one single movement. We talk for a few minutes and she shows me some of the dresses she is designing on her sketchbook. They are very intricately drawn in dark charcoal, some with splashes of watercolor paint added in. The boys talk briefly, but Edward looks more formal than he did upstairs.

After we say our goodbyes, Jasper and I turn back towards the hospital elevators. He, too, waves to the security guard and calls him by name as we pass. He glances out the lobby windows and salutes Edward and Alice one last time with a wry smile, then drapes his arm around me conspiratorially as he says, "Isn't Alice talented? She was showing me some designs for a homecoming dress."

"Oh. Are you going together?" I ask, hopefully, secretly both pleased for him and jealous that he had the guts to ask.

"Nope. Haven't asked yet. But you're going to help me," he drawls.

"Sure," I say, mustering up all the confidence that I can. All the way back up to our hospital rooms—or at least until we part ways at the third floor where mine is—we come up with increasingly extravagant ways that Jasper can ask his dark haired not-just-a-schoolboy-crush crush to the dance. I don't point out the obvious—that he had an opening to ask her since she was talking about dresses anyway. Or that he should just straight out ask her. I don't have the courage to do the same with Edward. I do, however, promise that I'll do whatever he needs me to in order to help him ask her. At least one of us will get the chance to dance with a Cullen.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Please note that I am a physician, but oncology is not my specialty...so although I do try to keep the medicine part as real as possible, there are certain elements in Bella's treatments that I take a bit of artistic license with for the benefit of the story. None of these patients are based on real patients.

This Edward and Bella meet at the hospital. My husband and I met in the dorms our freshman year in college. Where did you meet your significant other? (or the most interesting place you've met a significant other?)


	5. Chapter 4: Butterflies

**Chapter 4**

**Butterflies**

I'm not sure why I thought going back to school would make me feel normal again—it is anything but. My mom accompanies me my first day back so that we can meet with the principal. I think the meeting is more for Ms. Starr than me, just so she could tell me that "God has a reason for everything" repeatedly. Mom sits quietly while I explain my chemo schedule to Ms. Starr, and negotiate my exception to the school uniform—I will be allowed to wear hats or scarves even before I lose my hair. The main issue is making sure I will graduate on time since I have to miss so much school. I barter for a free period to catch up on schoolwork, but since Ms. Starr is insistent on the mandatory religion class, I end up dropping Trig. There goes my summer. I'll need to go to summer school to make it up.

Only my close friends are acting somewhat normal around me. During break, one of my classmates hugs me to welcome me back and says, "Bella, you still have your hair!"

Rosalie glares at her and says, "It doesn't fall out right away, idiot!" She wants to use stronger words, I can tell by the fierceness of her look, but knows that it isn't worth detention. We spend the rest of break time locked in one of the bathrooms, mourning the loss of my beautiful long wavy hair. Rose even offers to shave off her own blonde tresses when the time comes, but one look from me shuts her up. It's sweet of her, but we'd look ridiculous and likely would garner even more attention with both of us bald.

"Well," she says when we're done crying. "We can go wig shopping….Haven't you always wondered what you'd look like as a blonde?" She smiles deviously.

"Rose," I say. "I love you, but you know I can't afford a wig, much less two!"

"We're going shopping," she repeats and I know better than to argue with her.

A few days later my friend, Vanessa, drops me off at a coffeehouse, Ida's, near the hospital since it is nearby the bookstore where she works. The hospital is sort of midway between my school and Edward's school since he lives on the other side of the county. Because my friends live scattered all over the place—the result of going to a private school—I realize that I can figure out a ride system for the days when I only need to go to the clinic for an infusion. That way my mom could meet me there instead and not need to take as much time off of work.

Today, however, I am free from the hospital and the clinic, and instead I nervously sip my vanilla latte as I wait for the familiar site of disheveled bronze hair. I choose one of the armchairs that face the door in order to see him sooner.

"Hey, Bella," he says and walks across the café to sit at the couch nearby me. We're perpendicular to each other, Edward's long legs bent slightly due to the closeness of the coffee table. I notice he still has his knee brace on and wonder how long he has to wear it. It simultaneously feels natural and awkward seeing him outside of the hospital.

"Hey," I smile. "Thanks for letting me use your PS3. I'm sure they wouldn't have had Grand Theft Auto at the hospital." I gesture to the bag next to me, returning his borrowed things.

"I'd hope not," he grins back. "It _is_ a children's hospital, after all…So how were your first days back at school?"

"Strange," I answer honestly instead of my run of the mill "good" answer. "Everyone keeps staring at me like I'm a different person now."

He nods his head. "I know what you mean." Suddenly I feel angry and I can't explain it. It's not Edward's fault that I have leukemia. It's also not his fault that he is one of the few people I can confide in about how I'm feeling. My mom won't stop crying or blaming herself if I bring it up—which is _ridiculous_, as if she could control any of it. My dad—well, I'm not sure if he's more worried about my mom or me sometimes. I know what his reaction would be if I tried to talk about it, however; he'd shuffle around and then give me one-word answers or repeat platitudes. Their hearts are in the right place. They just don't know what to do any more than I do.

"No, I don't think you do," I say. "All my teachers are talking to me as if I'm a kindergartner. My principal _and_ the counselor they _made_ me meet with keep praying over me whenever they pass me in the hallway. Some of my friends won't talk to me, and I even have _freshmen_ pointing me out in the hallways."

"Bella," he says gently. "I think I understand more than you know. I—"

"Edward," I interrupt because I'm already on a roll. His beautiful features are marred by lines of confusion as his brow furrows. "Don't think that because you have to wear a knee brace, you understand. You'll get to take that off in a week or two and be fine. Hell, you even get to take it off so you can drive now. Even if I wear a wig, I'm going to be weak and tired and missing school right and left. I have to go to _summer_ school just to make up for it." I stop and take a breath.

"You're right, Bella," he says. "I don't know exactly what you're going through. But I do, too, in some ways…I…I..." He pauses and he gestures his hands towards me as he's talking but stops that movement as well. He's usually more articulate than this—at least in the week or so that I've known him—my words must have thrown him off. My anger dissipates as I realize how hard he is trying.

"Edward, I'm sorry," I begin. "I didn't mean to take this all out on you. I guess it's affecting me more than I like to admit."

"I don't know what to say," he finally finishes. "Except that I'm here if you want to talk about it. Or need someone to yell at." He flashes a watered down version of his slightly crooked smile. "But I do want to tell you that I—"

"No," I interrupt him again. "Can we just talk about something else for now? I feel like this is all I talk about right now—well, not really, but more like people are talking _around_ it, or won't stop asking me how I'm doing."

"How _are _you feeling, Bella?" he grins mischievously. I roll my eyes and toss my napkin at him in mock frustration. He goes up to the counter to order and comes back carrying a drink and a chocolate chip scone. We share the scone—well, he takes a bite or two and I eat the rest—and I drop crumbs all over my black tee shirt. As I brush them away, I smear the melted chocolate across the bottom of the shirt and my jeans.

"Ugh," I say, throwing my hands up. "I'm always spilling something!"

"Hmm," he says, laughing, his lopsided smile back in full force. "What are you wearing, anyway? I was hoping you'd show up in your uniform."

I roll my eyes. "Of course you were," I say, standing up. "It's every teenage boy's fantasy, right? I changed before I got here. Besides, I spilled my grilled cheese on my button down at lunch. I'm going to see if I can wipe some of this off."

I have to wait for a few minutes since there is only a single stalled bathroom at Ida's. As I wait, I think over how I'm going to bring up homecoming to Edward. I wonder if it's better to hint around Jasper wanting to take Alice, and then ask him to go with me or if I should do it the other way around. My hands start to get clammy just thinking about it and I wonder if I should just bring up Jasper alone since I promised to help him. After such a tough week at school, I'm not really in the mood for rejection. But, somehow, Jasper thinks that if Edward is already going to the dance, it will be easier for him to ask Alice. Maybe he just prefers I go down for the count first. Maybe the sneaky bastard is just making sure I actually go through with it. Not that I blame him.

When I get back from the bathroom, Edward is pacing back and forth beside the area where we were sitting. He's holding the shopping bag with his PS3 in one hand, and my phone in the other.

"Are you leaving?" I say, slightly surprised. "I thought we were going to do our homework here—"

"I'm already done," he says curtly, his voice overly polite. He stops pacing as he reaches me, and I can't interpret the look on his face. There is no trace of a smile or warmth.

"Oh," I say awkwardly, not really wanting to part ways yet. "Well, we could just go for a walk. There's a creek nearby…."

"I have to go," he insists, then hands me my phone. "You missed a call from Jasper. I didn't know you two were in contact."

"Wait," I say as I take my phone from him.

"Bye," he says abruptly and then turns around and quickly exits the café.

"Bye, Edward," I whisper since he can't hear me anyway. I glance at my cell phone. I have a missed call—Jasper—and a text message from him too.

_Homecoming?_ is all it says.

Shit. Edward thinks Jasper is asking _me_ to the dance.

-0-

"Jasper, are you _sure_ you know how to get there?" I ask him for the second time.

"Relax, Bella," he says calmly. "I looked up directions on my iPhone while you were changing. By the way, you should have just kept your uniform on."

I roll my eyes as I glance down at my shorts and long sleeved shirt. "So I've heard."

"What? I have mine on." Jasper motions down to his light blue button down shirt and khaki pants. His school doesn't have an actual uniform—a button down and dress slacks of any color are the only stipulations.

"It's not the same and you know it," I retort.

After the misunderstanding between Edward and I at the café yesterday, I wandered over to the creek that led to the Santa Ana riverbed. I called Edward twice but both calls went straight to voice mail. Then I called Jasper and said that we were going to do things the old fashioned way—both of us were going to just straight out ask Edward and Alice to be our dates for Homecoming. In person. No extravagant plan, no asking through siblings. I hiked through the trail, pleased with my plan, then headed over to the bookstore to bum a ride home with Vanessa since Edward took off before I could ask him.

"Okay, so I got directions to their house too, in case we miss them at school."

"Their _house_? How do you know their address?" I laugh at his determination.

He shrugs his shoulders casually. "Google."

"We won't miss them anyway. Just park on the street by the football field."

"How do you know they'll exit that way?"

"Trust me." I laugh again. I wasn't going to leave room for any misunderstanding this time. Since Edward wouldn't answer my phone calls, and since I didn't want to ask him to the dance via voice mail, I called Alice and told her I forgot to give Edward one of his games back. I think she knew it was my excuse to see him again, but I'm pretty sure she had no idea which one of my 'friends' would be driving me there.

Alice is waiting for us by the chain-linked fence of the football field when we arrive. I wave as Jasper expertly parallel parks his car. Alice's whole face lights up when she sees him come around the car.

"Hey, Alice," I say as I hand her Edward's game. "Where's Edward?"

"It's good to see you too, Bella," she teases me. "He's on his way. Hi Jasper—it's nice of you to give Bella a ride over here." She gives me a quick hug then reaches over to give Jasper one as well.

Before I can decide whether to wait for him a little further away from Alice and Jasper so that they can talk privately, I see Edward walking towards us from the far end of the fence. His brace is visible underneath his cargo shorts, but he is no longer limping. As he gets closer, I can see that he is scowling as he approaches us so I decide to meet him halfway and give Jasper a chance.

"Hi, Edward," I say softly, suddenly feeling awkward and shy. Maybe he didn't want to see me again. He was the one who left early yesterday, and he didn't answer any of my phone calls. The scowl doesn't leave his face and my stomach is churning, but I am determined anyway. "You're walking a lot better."

"Hi," he says. "Bella, what are you doing here?"

"Um, I forgot one of your games, and you wouldn't answer your phone so I called Alice—" Great, I'm babbling and he clearly doesn't want to see me. I look away from the scrutiny of his gaze. "Well, thanks again for letting me borrow your PS3." I turn to walk back towards Alice and Jasper, trying to get away from this boy who isn't happy to see me show up randomly at his school, then I realize he is going the same direction anyway to meet his sister.

"No wonder Alice texted me to meet her here instead." I nod, still not looking in his direction. I can feel the heat in my cheeks as I'm sure they turn a rosy color from my embarrassment. "Why is _he_ here?" he continues when I don't answer.

"Um, Jasper gave me a ride. I don't have a car."

He stops walking to turn towards me. Instinctively I stop as well and finally turn towards him. "You don't have a car?" he repeats. "How did you meet me yesterday? How did you get home?" The scowl has finally disappeared, and he looks…concerned.

"My friend works at the bookstore near the hospital. I was going to ask you for a ride home, but then you left…."

"So you called Jasper to pick you up after I left you," he interrupts me, angrily.

"No," I say, shaking my head.

"And now he's giving you rides…you guys don't even go to the same school so he had to drive to yours to pick you up." He looks towards Jasper and Alice who are still far enough away that they cannot hear our absurd conversation. I'm not even sure what he's trying to say, but then he looks back towards me and I can see something beyond the anger in his green eyes, a glint of sadness.

"You're jealous," I say, incredulous at the realization.

"I'm not. Why would I be?" he says defensively. He crosses his arms in front of himself as if to emphasize his words.

"I don't know," I whisper, then add louder, "Fine. Then what is it?"

"Nothing."

"Come on—why do you think Jasper's not good enough for Alice?" I say as Edward interrupts the end of my question with: "Not good enough?" He stares at me for a moment as he digests what I've asked, then continues, "What did you say?"

"Jasper and Alice," I say, confused. "He's crazy about her. He was afraid of your reaction if he asked her out. I guess he was right, and I was wrong."

"You've been helping Jasper?" he asks, confusion evident in his green eyes as well.

I nod. Isn't it obvious?

"You don't _like_ Jasper?"

"Of course I like Jasper," I say, smiling now. He _is_ jealous. "_You_ don't like Jasper."

"Jazz and I go way back," he says. "I just didn't know he was into my sister."

"So you're okay with this?"

"Yeah, if _she_ is," he shrugs, then throws an arm around me. "Come on, I want to show you something." The crooked smile is back.

-0-

As we walk past Alice and Jasper, Edward calls over to his sister, "We'll be back, okay?" Alice nods in understanding immediately, and I marvel at the way they communicate with each other. Jasper has his usual calm face and his stance is relaxed so I can't tell if he's asked her yet or not. When the chain link fence stops at the end of the football field, Edward guides us to the right through a parking lot. We stop next to a building and I ask, "Is this part of your school?"

"No. It's a nature center." He gestures with his free arm as we walk through the entrance. There is a greenhouse of some sort to the right and steps that lead down to a trail. Tall eucalyptus trees, pine trees and cacti loom over us.

"Are we going for a hike?" I look down and am glad that I am wearing tennis shoes. "My stuff is in Jasper's car."

"We won't be long," he says. "There are some trails that wander around that way." He points over to the left, and we wander down the concrete steps to a wide dirt path. The path narrows quickly once we're past the building, and Edward moves his arm from around my shoulder and interlaces our fingers. The tingly warm feeling that I'm used to associating with him is back, humming between our fingers and bouncing back and forth between us as we continue our walk. Who am I kidding? I don't think I'll ever get used to the sparks between us, nor do I want to get used to it. I don't want to take the butterfly feeling in my stomach for granted—butterflies on crack, swirling and fluttering and turning my stomach upside down. In a good way. I've never felt this way around anyone before in my life, not even with Jake when we were dating.

"Is this okay?" he asks after a short silence and picks up our intertwined hands in explanation.

"Yes," I say softly, trying not to let my voice squeak. "Wouldn't want you to fall on the trail." I point to his brace meaningfully.

"Me?" he laughs. "I'm not the one who trips on _air_."

"Whatever." I roll my eyes at him but am secretly happy at the new lightness of his mood.

"I come here sometimes when I want to think," he says as the spiky tall cacti that we've been walking by turn into taller, leafier trees—various conifers mixed in with eucalyptus. The sun is filtering down in sparse lines, almost randomly lighting up the darkness of the manmade forest. "Sometimes I ditch class when I get tired of the mindless chatter and voices of my classmates." He gestures back towards the direction of his school.

"I didn't even know this was here," I admit. I'm still in awe of the secret hideaway places in southern California even though I've lived here most of my life. So much nature tucked away amongst the vast concrete jungle suburbia. Renee likes to joke that we traded one type of rainforest for another, comparing the mossy green woods of northern Washington with the grey tall buildings that masquerade as trees around here.

"Yeah, it's supposed to mimic the different California habitats." We wander a little further and I recognize the pine trees changing into giant redwoods, the reddish bark peeling back in layers. We circle around and stop as Edward approaches a small stream that starts from a manmade waterfall.

He frowns for a moment as he stops walking. "I went back to Ida's after I drove around for a while," he says. "You were gone. I'm sorry you had to find another ride."

"Don't worry about it. Vanessa didn't mind. I...I didn't know you came back. I would have waited, otherwise." I drop his hand and pick up a long narrow brown leaf, tossing it into the stream. We watch it float slowly towards the other end.

"I'm sorry I got jealous," he admits, a hint of a smile twitching at his lips. "Forgive me?"

I'm surprised at his admission, so I am determined to be just as honest. "I'll forgive you," I say. "If you'll go to homecoming with me?" I meant to say it as a statement, but my nerves get the best of me and it comes out a question. I look down as I ask him—not brave enough to see the reaction on his face—and throw another leaf into the water to follow the first one.

"Don't you want to go with someone from your school?" he hesitates.

"I don't _want_ to go at all, remember?" I say honestly. "And I've already turned down two guys from my school."

"Jasper?"

"No, neither were Jasper," I say, rolling my eyes. Yup, he was jealous. "While it's true that I don't _want_ to go to the dance, I really _want_ to go with you." I look up to face him, finally, trying to discern the fire in his hazel colored eyes.

"What?" I'm not sure if he doesn't understand what I'm saying, or he's trying to torture me at this point.

"Is that a yes or a no, Cullen?"

"Well, if you really _have_ to go, then I'd love to take you," he says with his crooked smile. We walk back towards the nature center and I can't wipe my own goofy smile off my face. I'll worry about the actual dancing later.

As we get closer to the building, Edward points over to the left, then walks us over towards the greenhouse structure. We walk through two sets of doors, and from the paintings outside the second set, I can guess what we're looking for.

"Butterflies?" I ask, smiling.

"Yeah, it's a butterfly house. Come on." He moves his arm that is around me, and intertwines our fingers again as we walk through the doors. Inside the greenhouse, there are several small trees and bushes planted in the center and along all the walls. Little light yellow butterflies flutter across some of the leaves of the bushes. A few orange and black monarchs are hanging against the domed ceiling. I notice that the walls are made of mesh, kind of like a screen door.

"Careful where you step," Edward says, still holding my hand—I presume so that I don't trip and fall on any of the butterflies. "They're more active in the afternoon, but sometimes they land on the ground too."

A single brown butterfly lingers in front of me and then flies over to the other end. As it opens its wings, I can see small purple tear drops on its lower half. The purple is surprising—a hidden treasure that is only noticeable if you look closely enough. I think about the general, almost clichéd, symbol of the metamorphosis of a butterfly—it's almost analogous to what the cancer is doing to me. But is it opposite? Am I the antonym? The cancer is spreading across my body even as the chemotherapy halts its progress—making me weak, destroying my cells, disintegrating my hair, my body, my _life_. No, not my life. Maybe I can be seen as the butterfly crawling back into its cocoon, just to emerge as a puffy little caterpillar. Or maybe I can emerge again, live my life, and not let myself be controlled by my insecurities any longer.

Edward stops us by a small wooden structure hanging from one of the trees. It looks almost like a round birdhouse, but there are leaves and flower buds hanging around the outside of the structure from the edges of its roof. When I step closer, I realize that they are not leaves or buds. Edward points to one of the larger ones, light yellow and black encased in a clear almost plastic looking container.

"That's what you've been doing to me since I first met you," he says quietly. There's a fire burning beyond the rich green of his eyes again, and his lips quirk up in a small—but beautiful—smile. "Helping me break down my walls." I smile back at him, feeling lighter than I have in weeks—maybe months—and nod my head in acknowledgment. He's just admitted that he feels the same way about me as I do about him—we're lowering down our shields simultaneously.

We watch the miniscule movements of the tiny butterfly's black legs pushing against the barrier holding her in. Her sack moves almost imperceptibly back and forth with the movement and I am mesmerized. After a few minutes, Edward pulls me back towards the door. "Come on," he says. "She needs to take her time."

We wander for a little bit—it's a very small space, then head back towards the nature center. "Thanks for showing me that," I say, squeezing his hand lightly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The nature center really exists, next to a high school that I've made into Edward and Alice's fictional high school. The butterfly center will open up in a few weeks.

Where is your place to get away or clear your mind?


	6. Ch 5: Six Different Ways Inside My Heart

**Chapter 5**

**Six Different Ways Inside My Heart**

_This is stranger than I thought_

_Six different ways inside my heart_

_And every one I'll keep tonight_

_Six different ways go deep inside_

**-The Cure**

There's nothing much to do at the hospital but wait. I have caught up with most of my homework already, all the movies are kid movies, and I didn't bring any books. I'm also done staring at the ceiling, trying to make shapes out of the tiles—it only reminds me of Edward and the fact that he isn't here. Of course he isn't here—he's at school where he should be and he doesn't know that I'm here anyway. Some of my visits will be at the clinic, just long enough to get the chemo through my port-a-cath and for the nurses to observe me afterwards for any bad reactions. This time they decide to admit me since I need a longer infusion today and also another one tomorrow. The television is on and I'm sitting in one of the visitor chairs, bouncing a small rubber ball against the wall. Somehow the motions are soothing for me, trying to angle the ball so I can catch it without actually getting up from my chair.

_Bounce. Bounce._

I glance at the clock—just a little after two—my mom isn't due for four more hours. She'll be bringing me movies for our new Friday night tradition. I wonder what time Edward gets out of school….

_Bounce._ _Bounce….roll…._

Damn. The ball rolls under the hospital bed, just as I hear a knock on the door. Angela walks in, dressed only in scrubs this time, no white coat. She'd already been by this morning for "rounds" with Dr. G and they went through all the details of my lab results with me, with copies made for my parents.

"Hi, Bella," she says. As she gets closer, I notice the skin underneath her eyes is puffy and purple and her hair is messily pulled back into a bun.

"Hi, Angela. I thought you went home?"

"I'm on my way now since I'm post-call. I just wanted to ask you something first."

"Okay."

She looks around the room cursorily. "I'm surprised Edward isn't here."

I smile. "Is that your question?"

"No."

"He doesn't know I've been admitted," I say. "I feel bad making him drive here to visit me all the time."

"Hmmm," she says, as she taps one of her index fingers on her lips thoughtfully. "I don't think anyone could _make_ Edward do anything he didn't want to do. I've known him a long time, you know, ever since...well, a long time. Sorry, I shouldn't be talking about other patients."

"It's okay. I'm going home tomorrow anyway, right?"

"Yes, I've got all the discharge paperwork done so you can go right after you get your meds."

"Thanks." I'm hoping that I'll really get to go home tomorrow because I don't want to spend the whole weekend at the hospital like the previous one.

"No problem. I'm sure you want to be home on Sunday. For your birthday." Damn. Of course she knows when my birthday is—it's likely all over my chart. "So…I have an extra ticket to No Doubt...they're playing with a bunch of other bands at the meadow amphitheater next Wednesday. Do you want to come?"

"Um, yeah," I smile. "Am I allowed to be around that many people?"

"Of course—as long as you're not sick. Remember if you have fevers you have to page the doctor on call, okay?" She starts heading toward the door as she talks, and I feel bad because I forgot that she was post call.

"I know."

"And, Bella—" Angela adds right before leaving. "There's Arts and Crafts at three in the Child Life room if you're bored." I roll my eyes but look at the clock anyway. Half past two. I carefully maneuver my IV pole so I don't tangle it up and then I crawl slightly under the bed to pick up the rubber ball again.

_Bounce._

-0-

The arts and crafts project is geared towards younger kids, of course, but I decide to participate anyway. We make glitter pumpkins with construction paper and glitter glue, and I help a four-year old color a Halloween page.

"I'm Princess Belle," she says to me. "What's your name?"

"It's Bella," I say, laughing, as she adjusts a plastic silver and pink tiara on her head.

"No, it can't be 'Bella'," she continues. "Like I'm Maddie, but I'm a princess today, so I'm…Oh! Maybe _you_ can be Belle since it's like your name and I'll be Snow White!" Maddie grins happily at me at her decisions. She looks Asian, but not—maybe some kind of mix—and she has curly light brown hair that frames her heart shaped face in ringlets. As she starts to tell me princess stories, Maddie shakes her head back and forth with emphasis and the curls wiggle around with her enthusiasm.

"Is your hair naturally curly?" I ask her.

"This isn't my hair," she says, matter of fact. She pats it down with one hand and some leftover glitter gets stuck in it.

"It's a wig," a lady's voice calls out from behind me. "But her real hair is curly—she gets it from her dad." Maddie turns around at the same time as I do, screaming, "Mama! My mama's here!" She climbs down from her chair and hugs her mother's legs. Maddie's mom has long dark hair and almond shaped eyes—she is definitely Asian but I'm not sure if she's Japanese or Chinese. I look back and forth between her and Maddie, connecting their similarities.

"Mama, this is my friend Princess Belle," Maddie says pointing to me.

"It's actually 'Bella'," I say, putting my hand out to shake hers.

"I'm Tammy," she says. "You must be new here." I tell Tammy that I've just started my induction chemotherapy, and about the specifics that Angela and Dr. G told me that morning. She is very knowledgeable about ALL—acute lymphoblastic leukemia—as Maddie has it as well and has been in and out of the hospital for the past year or so. She also is going to have a bone marrow transplant after this round of stronger chemo.

"It was hard finding a donor," she says, matter of fact, with no trace of bitterness in her voice. "Because she's mixed—my husband is white. And there's not a lot of Asians on the registry."

"So how did you find one?" I ask, intrigued.

"Well, her baby sister just happens to be a match. We looked for months before she was born, though."

"Oh," I say. I'm not sure what else to say.

"We didn't have her just to be a donor, by the way," Tammy adds, again no hint of bitterness or malice in her voice. "Though most people assume that."

I'm not sure that I would begrudge Tammy and her husband even if they had another child to save their first. I look at Maddie, her tiny tongue sticking out in concentration as she colors and the pink tiara slipping slightly down her head, and I couldn't imagine _not_ wanting to do everything possible for her. I also think back to my conversation with Edward about my biggest fears. Will I be able to have a daughter of my own some day? It's ironic that when I first went to see my doctor last week, I thought that all the symptoms I had was because I was pregnant. And now…now I don't even know if that's a possibility in my future.

-0-

After arts and crafts time, I head back to my room and glance at the clock again. Four fifteen. Less than two hours until my parents arrive. What is Edward doing now? I managed to keep thoughts of him at bay while I was busy with glitter glue, and now in the boredom of my hospital room, he's all I can think about again. I want to share with him the news of my lab results, and if I am being honest with myself, I want to see him again. But, I don't want him to feel like he has to visit me just because I am in the hospital. I will have many days in the hospital and this is a routine part of the chemotherapy schedule. Would it be fair to expect him to be here just because he's my friend? _And_ my date for homecoming? The last part makes my goofy smile reappear.

Angela and Dr. G came in with big smiles this morning, clutching copies of my labs. I phoned my parents right afterwards to explain things to them as best as I could. Because I am sixteen—almost seventeen—I'm considered in the higher risk category just for being diagnosed with ALL at an older age. But, there are no cancer cells in my brain, my CT scans are good, I have no chromosomal abnormalities in my cancer cells and the numbers of leukocytes involved aren't a high number. I'd learned a whole new language in two weeks.

All in all it means that the odds are _more_ than in my favor. Dr. G explained it in general terms that everything looked good. I looked it up on the internet and found that I had an eighty to eighty-five percent chance of surviving. I know why they didn't quote numbers to me. I am not just a number. I am not just a statistic. But, I also don't want to think about the other fifteen percent. The fifteen percent that included Angela's sister. Where would I fall? Where would Maddie fall? Would I need a bone marrow transplant too? Somehow all the possibilities seem overwhelming. I think about Maddie going through all of this at four years old, of her knowing no other life but at the hospital. For now. Would she make it to a homecoming dance? Would she grow up to be a princess?

I can smell the saltiness of my tears as they float silently down my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away as someone knocks on my door.

"Hey, can I come in?" Jake peers his head around the door slowly. "Do you want any hot chocolate, tea or coffee?"

I laugh at his timid manner, which is so unlike him, my tears forgotten for the moment. "Hot chocolate, please," I say.

He motions the other volunteer with him to move onto the next room after pouring my hot chocolate in a Styrofoam cup.

"How are you feeling, Bella?" he asks sincerely. I roll my eyes, and take a sip of my drink. "What?"

"Sorry, Jake," I say. "I'm just tired of that question. I'm fine—thanks for asking. How've you been?"

"Good, good," he says, nodding his head. "I'm done here in a bit, then I'm going to the game." Ah. Friday night. The Benedict boys are so supportive of their football team. The amount of school pride is borderline ridiculous. I suppose it's to be expected at an all-boys school. "So where's your boyfriend?" he continues, placing his hands in his pockets.

"Who?" I ask back.

"You know, the guy who was here last time."

"Edward?"

"Yeah."

"He's not my boyfriend," I say. Why does everyone keep asking about him?

"Neither was I," he retorts, then immediately looks apologetic. "I'm sorry, Bells. Can I…can I just say something without you getting defensive?" I glare at him. "Please," he continues. "I'm not trying to be an ass…"

"Okay," I say grudgingly.

"Well, you know when we were sort of dating…er, uh, together and stuff, I'm sorry if we took things too fast—"

"You didn't force me to do anything, Jake," I interrupt him.

"Please, let me finish. I just wanted us to get to know each other better…you know, even…after, and you kept pushing me away. Not answering my calls…I even tried to get Royce to set up a double date with him and Rose…"

"I'm sorry, Jake," I say sincerely. I think about all the times Jake showed up after school to talk to me but I managed to avoid him. Was I embarrassed?

"Was it…was it because you were sick?"

"No…I didn't find out until later. God, I'm such a bitch." I look down at the ground as Jake contradicts me. "Wait, let me continue…I'm sorry I ignored you, Jake. It wasn't your fault."

"'S okay. But…this is what I wanted to say…don't push Edward away too, Bella. He seems like a nice guy—I mean, I just met him the one time, but at least give him a chance, you know?"

I nod my head in assent and respond, "Yeah, I see what you mean. But, just so you know, Edward and I _are_ just friends."

"Bullshit," he laughs. "I saw the way he was looking at you."

"Whatever, Jake." I roll my eyes. "And, Jake—thanks for still being my friend…you know, after all that." We say our goodbyes, and Jake continues on his volunteer coffee cart rounds.

_Am I not giving Edward a chance?_ I've let him see me at my most vulnerable, I've told him my fears about everything I'm facing, yet I don't want him to feel like he has to hold my hand every step of the way. As a friend or otherwise. But, have I given him the choice? Not really if he doesn't even know I'm at the hospital.

I didn't give Jake a choice either. I pushed him away before I could get hurt, before I could develop deeper feelings for him. And maybe we would have only been friends in the end anyway. But, I should have at least given him a choice in the matter.

I think about what Angela and Dr. G told me this morning—the odds are in my favor. I'm going to survive. Yet, at the same time, life is too short. I've taken the leap and asked Edward to the dance and he agreed to go. I've already opened up to him about so many things, not just the whirlwind surrounding my new life as I face this monster called leukemia. Jake's message is clear and selfless—he isn't trying to make us something we aren't, he isn't trying to get back in my pants, he's just trying to make me learn from my mistakes. He is simply being a friend. What he doesn't realize is that I've already broken down some of my barriers—that Edward has already found six different ways that lead inside my heart. Whether he knows it or not.

I take a deep breath, pick up my cell phone, and dial Edward's number.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **If you're interested in learning more about how you can become a bone marrow donor, please visit this site: www(dot)marrow(dot)org

There really is great need for minority groups in the registry. If you are pregnant, you can also donate the baby's cord blood.

Also, I know that Bella's birthday is Sept 13 in canon, but I changed it to some time in October for the purposes of my timeline in this story.

BTW, the Cure was one of my favorite bands when I was a teenager. I still love their music Who was one of your favorite bands as a teen?


	7. Chapter 6: DoubtNo Doubt

**Chapter 6**

**Doubt/No Doubt**

_Sometimes sunshine_

_Does not want to shine on me_

_And sometimes I find myself blind_

_At first I cannot see and then I see it's me_

-No Doubt

Angela and her boyfriend, Ben, spread out a thick blanket on the grass and motion for me to join them. There are just a few other people scattered around the grassy seating area of the amphitheater. Even fewer people are sitting amongst the assigned seating below us. Farther down, various roadies in differing shades of faded black shirts and jeans are setting up the opening band's equipment. The sun is in the middle of setting and the sky reflects the in between nature of twilight—of the day fading into night—soft pinks and purple brightened by a crimson glow of orange.

"Are you going to be warm enough later?" Angela asks me.

"Are you my doctor or my friend tonight?" I retort.

"Both," she replies. "I don't want your parents to regret letting you hang out with me."

I roll my eyes. There are worse people I could be hanging out with than my doctor and her boyfriend who are ten years my senior and likely more responsible than my own mom. "I'll be fine." I gesture over to my hoodie that I've tossed onto the blanket. "And thanks for inviting me," I add.

"Of course, Bella. I'm just so happy you could make it. Besides, seventeen is a big birthday."

"Whatever." I smirk and roll my eyes again. Angela smiles back at me, knowing my gratitude is sincere.

"Every birthday is important," she says quietly, and I know that she must be thinking of her sister, June. She never made it to her eighteenth birthday. Ever since I was first diagnosed several weeks ago, Angela has adopted me as her little sister. From conversations that I've had with Sue, my usual night nurse, and some of my daytime nurses, I've figured out that although Angela is one of the most empathetic fellows—and residents, when she was one—the hospital has ever seen, she has never hung out with any of her patients outside of the hospital. And even though my mom usually acts more like an older sister to me than a mother, the situation with Angela still seems different. Maybe because I'm not the one taking care of her. Maybe because it feels more like a give and take, like I assume real sibling relationships are like, kind of like my friendship with Rosalie. I'm getting used to my little hospital family—Angela, Dr. G, Sue, Maddie, not to mention the other nurses and residents. Besides Maddie, I've met a few other cancer patients—some with leukemia, others with tumors in their brains, their muscles, their spinal cords—and other "chronic" patients with various diseases, as the residents dub us. The other ones I don't really see much because the oncology department takes up the whole third floor of the hospital and I don't venture much off that floor.

Angela, Ben and I chat as we wait for the opening band to get ready. We've arrived early to ensure that we get a good spot on the open seats of the meadow. The amphitheater starts to fill up, much more slowly than the grassy area. Groups of people are smoking, drinking, hanging out, and staking out their claim with sweatshirts and a few blankets. One group near us practices their hackey sack skills in a wide circle. Ben doodles on a small sketchbook he brought tucked into his hoodie. He's a graphic designer, and he's also working on a comic strip series. Angela peers over his shoulder as he sketches, and I wonder at their easy camaraderie.

"How long have you been together?" I ask, tentatively, not wanting to be too nosy.

"Since birth," Ben says, not looking up.

"Not exactly," Angela clarifies. "We grew up together, and were friends for a long time, but didn't start dating until the summer after high school."

"Wow," I say. "So…"

"Ten years, give or take," Ben interrupts me. Hmmm. Ten years. I'm surprised that they're not married at this point, but what do I know? I think about my friends who think they are going to be with their high school boyfriends for the rest of their lives and wonder who actually will stay together. We have a year and a half left of school; most of us will go to college, then maybe grad school. We have no idea where our lives will take us. Just thinking about going to college makes me excited. I didn't care about it a month ago—I thought that maybe I was done with school. But, now that I've been given a second chance of sorts—well, more like a different outlook on life with my leukemia and the fact that I WILL be part of the eighty five percent who survive—I like the idea of going to college more and more. I wonder, too, if becoming a doctor interfered in Angela and Ben's relationship, although to look at them no one would think it. Or, if maybe she sometimes put her own life on hold to take care of others, to take care of me. I wonder too, if maybe it would have been better to meet Edward later on in my life, or that if we were meant to be we would meet regardless and the sparks would fly no matter what stage in our lives we were in.

My phone buzzes with a text message, lifting me out of my reverie.

_Turn around_.

I frown for a moment at the number; it's not one I recognize. As I turn around and stand up, however, I hear a high-pitched squeal before I can even focus my eyes. Alice. She's running towards me, her short hair stiffened into a dark faux hawk that doesn't budge with her movement. Behind her, Edward stands with his hands in his dark jeans, smirking as he saunters over. The contrast between them makes me smile. _No, I'd rather know him now_, I think. Otherwise I would miss out on years of that smile and the forest of his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I ask Alice as she reaches me and hugs me fiercely before letting go. My watchband gets stuck in the intricate dark grey crochet sweater that she is wearing, layered flowing over a flared black skirt and leggings. We disentangle ourselves just as Edward joins us.

"Stalking you," Alice replies, breathily.

"Alice," Edward says, in a sort of warning, but his one-sided grin appears immediately afterwards. He leans over and places his arms around me. "I told you I'd get in somehow."

I laugh as he releases me. "I didn't think you were serious. How did you get tickets?"

"I know some people," he says cryptically.

"Whatever," Alice rolls her eyes at her brother. "We have tickets in the pit. Do you want to join us?" Of course Edward would be able to get the best tickets available on the actual day of the show. Who doesn't he know?

"No. Thanks, though," I answer, waving over towards Ben and Angela. "I'm just going to hang out with my friends. Besides, I don't think my doctor will let me in the mosh pit." I gesture over to my arms at my easy bruisability. Most of the soft bruises are fading, turning a yellow hue, but I still have a pool of purple around my last blood draw site.

Angela and Ben stand up next to us, and Edward greets her immediately. "Hi Dr. Weber. I didn't know you were going to be here with Bella."

"Yeah, it's sort of a birthday present," she says. "This is my boyfriend, Ben, by the way. Ben, this is Edward and his sister, Alice." _Huh_, I think. Angela knows Alice too. Before I can comment on it, I realize that Edward has tensed next to me and is glaring at me suddenly.

"Bella, when is your birthday?" he says tersely.

"Sunday."

"_This_ Sunday or _last _Sunday?"

"Last." I shrug my shoulders. I hate my birthday. My parents know I've always hated my birthday, and they try to make as little fanfare as possible every year _because_ it's my birthday and they think I should have my way on that day. Renee works hard to rein it in, but Charlie is just as low key as I am so he is very understanding.

"I hung out with you all Friday night. We watched movies with your parents. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't _they _say anything?"

"Edward, it's not a big deal," I say, placing my hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. "I'm not a big birthday person. Besides, I told you about the truck."

"You told me your parents got you a used truck. You didn't say it was for your _birthday_." I look around to Alice for help, but the three of them have drifted off into a soft conversation, purposely shifting their eyes away from Edward and me.

"I don't know when _your_ birthday is," I finally say, hoping to shift gears a little.

"June twenty," he answers immediately, voice still tense. Then he adds in a softer tone, "Bella, I'm sorry. I just didn't know. Please let me take you out for your birthday...Can I…Can I take you out to dinner on Saturday?"

"I wasn't trying to con you into a date," I say, smirking.

"You purposely didn't tell me it was your birthday," he counters. "Besides, we already have a date—homecoming, remember? Let me ask you this time."

His green eyes are dark and piercing, imploring. I nod my head yes before I can change my mind.

"Speaking of homecoming," Alice joins in on our conversation as Angela and Ben sit back down, engrossed in his sketchbook. "Are we all going together?"

"Um, I don't think so, Alice. I think Jasper's planning on going with some of his friends, and my friend Rosalie already rented a limo for a group of us…." I didn't add that as much as I loved Rose, I didn't really care for her boyfriend. I would much rather have Edward and I go with Alice and Jasper. But, Rose is my closest friend and since I'm only going to the dance to support her, I figure I could handle a few hours in Royce's presence.

"Oh, that's okay. We'll still see each other there, right?"

"Of course," I agree.

She turns towards Edward and adds in one breath, "I guess we won't be going to either homecoming together, then. I'll just meet up with you at both. I'm going to head down to the pit and find everyone else. Are you coming or are you staying here?"

"I'll catch up with you. I think Garrett is okay for now. Otherwise text me." Alice nods at his answer, waves to me, then is lost amongst the growing crowd on the grass area. I'm still catching up to all of her statements. Huh. Edward is going to his own school's homecoming. Of course he is. Without me. Just because he agreed to go with me, doesn't mean he has to take me to his. But, wouldn't he tell me he was going? Or not. I'm not his girlfriend. And I know he isn't seeing anyone else. When would he have time? We've talked on the phone or seen each other almost every day since we've met. "Is it okay if I hang out with you here for the opening band?" Edward asks when I haven't said anything for a while.

I'm still staring off at the space that Alice vacated. I nod my head, try to wipe the frown off my face, and gesture towards where Angela and Ben are sitting. "Of course," I say, the lighthearted tone sounds false even to my own ears. I'm not asking him about his homecoming. If he wanted me to know, he would tell me. Although, I could find out if Jasper is going with Alice and ask Jasper about it….

My reverie is interrupted, thankfully, by the introduction of the first band. It's a skate punk band that contrasts with the music we'll be hearing later—the only connecting factor between them and No Doubt is that they are local as well. Most of the people in the not yet full amphitheater are sitting down except for the people in the pit who are standing, dancing, body slamming around. Edward and I sit cross-legged facing one another on the blanket, with Angela and Ben in front of us, facing the stage. Our knees are touching each other, and I can feel the electricity flowing between us even through our jeans.

"You're wearing your pajamas today," Edward teases me and gestures to my shirt. I'm wearing Renee's hand me down classic No Doubt shirt—it's a threadbare faded bright red. I smile because he remembers that I wore this shirt as my pajamas in the hospital.

"It was fitting," I answer.

"Is that your Mom's too?" he asks, pointing to the dark blue bandana covering the top of my head. I fiddle a moment with the locks of my hair sticking out underneath the bandana—the mahogany shade lacking the sheen it once had. I accidentally pull out several strands and I shake them off onto the blanket before I answer him.

"Um, no." I look down at my missing strands, then delve deep into the forest color of his own eyes. "I'm starting to lose some of my hair," I admit, sheepishly.

Edward reaches over and gently strokes one of my cheeks. The tingle of his caress makes me blush furiously, as if I wasn't embarrassed enough. "It's okay, sweetheart," he says softly.

"I like my long hair," I add, likely stating the obvious.

"It will grow back."

"I know." I sigh because I don't want to be reminded of my leukemia. Not here, at the concert, when I'm out doing _normal_ things. Normal like hanging out with my _doctor_, her boyfriend, and this beautiful boy sitting next to me. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my birthday," I add, wanting more than anything to be honest with Edward.

"You really didn't think it would matter to me?" he asks softly.

"I'm not sure," I shrug my shoulders. "I know you have lots of other friends…"

"Hey." Edward reaches over and tilts my head up to look back up at him. "You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever."

I stop breathing momentarily as I take in what he has just declared. It makes me nervous to be feeling so many things at once—to be dealing with the grief and fear over having cancer, and also dealing with meeting Edward at the same time and the flood of emotions that overcome me the more I get to know him. It's a lot to take in a matter of a few weeks time. "So…I'm just a 'thing' to you," I finally say with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

"You know what I mean," he laughs, then adds quietly. "That didn't bother you, what Alice said earlier? I'd rather be taking _you_ to my school's homecoming, but I already promised someone I'd go with her…before I even met you. She's just a friend." He plays with both of my hands as he is talking and says the last part quickly.

"Just a friend, huh?" I tease, letting him swing my arms slightly between us as we talk. His hands are much larger than mine and he's almost cradling mine in his.

"Then what am I?"

He stills our hands before staring into my eyes for a moment. "You're…you're my Bella," he says simply.

"Okay," I agree. We turn to face the amphitheater stage and watch the rest of the opening band. I'm not sure if they are any good—all I can focus on is Edward and I sitting side by side. His hand is next to mine and I absentmindedly trace doodles on the back of it as we sit.

When the band finishes, Angela and Ben head out to stretch their legs, and Edward and I stay seated while the other people around us stand up. I place my head on his shoulder for a moment. "Are you going to head down to meet your friends? You should take advantage of your good tickets."

"I probably should go," Edward responds, not moving from my side. After several minutes he looks around us and pauses and I lift my head to follow his gaze. I can see a tall blonde waving over to him in between the other concert go-ers. Her skin is immaculate—I can tell even from this distance—and she is definitely pretty enough to rival Rosalie.

"One of your friends?" I ask.

"Yeah. Um, I don't know if I'll make it back up here later, but I had fun with you tonight." He stands up and pulls me up with him. He hugs me suddenly—my head reaches just underneath his jaw and we fit together perfectly—and I swear he kisses the top of my bandana lightly before pulling away. The blonde waits patiently at a distance, seemingly not wanting to intrude. "I'll see you Saturday, right?"

"Sure, sure. For my non-birthday dinner, right?"

"For your non-birthday _date_ with me," he corrects me, his crooked smile lighting up his face. His brow furrows just for a second as he glances up at his friend then back at me.

"Bye, Edward." I watch him as walks towards the blonde girl and she looks as if she breathes a sigh of relief. They walk out of the gates together and I notice that he does not hug her when he reaches her, nor does he touch her as they walk side by side. Yet I can't help but feel just a bit insecure as her shiny beautiful blonde locks swing gracefully behind her, and I pat down my bandana again to make sure it is still in place.

_I'm his Bella, I'm his Bella_, I chant to myself, trying and failing to ignore my feelings of inadequacy and jealousy. Angela and Ben return soon afterward and they tease me relentlessly about Edward. Normally I would hate the attention, and even though their teasing makes my cheeks extra rosy, it actually makes me feel a little bit better about him leaving with one of his female friends. I wonder if she is the friend he is taking to his homecoming dance.

Gwen and the rest of the band take the stage and everyone in the grass area goes crazy. Their set is full of their old school ska songs mixed in with their more mainstream rock/pop numbers, but every song is full of high energy. They perform live just like I would imagine them to—just like Renee has always described going to their shows in the early days, before international fame hit. I dance and jump and bounce with Angela and Ben and our neighbors until I'm dripping in so much sweat that I have to take a break. I glance back at everyone as I exit the gate and notice the collective energy vibrating around the moving bodies. It feels good to be alive.

-0-

As I'm waiting in line at the concession stand, Alice pops up next to me. "Hey Bella," she says. "I was just coming to join you up there." She points vaguely in the direction of the grass meadow seats.

"Come to join the little people, huh?" I tease, then I reach over to feel the crunchiness of her faux hawk.

"Not the hair, Bells!" she practically shrieks as she ducks below me.

"It's not budging, Alice. Calm down." I pat her stiff hair as if to prove my point. "How's the pit?"

"It was fun…but everyone's gone now." She gestures over towards the parking lot this time.

"Gone? Do you need a ride back?"

"No…Edward is around somewhere…he's…uh…helping a friend." I assume she's talking about the blond he met up with after he left me.

"Yeah," I say. "He seems to have a lot of _friends_." We are at the front of the line now, so I order four bottled waters and Alice and I turn back towards the grass area, with a bottle in each of our hands.

"Bella," Alice says finally after we've been walking for a few moments. "It isn't what it looks like. Edward and Kate are just friends."

I nod slowly. "It's okay, Alice. Edward and I are just friends too."

She pulls on one of my arms with one of the waters and we stop before the gate. The music is louder here, and she leans up to talk directly in my ear. "You don't get it, Bella. You have no idea how much he's changed since he's met you. He's like a different person. Even my parents are impressed and keep asking to meet you."

"I doubt it has anything to do with me," I whisper back. I repeat myself more loudly in her ear when I realize she has no idea what I said.

"Bella, it has _everything _to do with you. Have you no idea how he feels about you?"

I shrug my shoulders. Alice looks at me for a moment, then rolls her eyes. "My brother is an idiot," she says. "Trust me, Bella, he's crazy about you."

This time I roll my eyes at her statement, but I am secretly thrilled. I'm not sure why I'm doubting myself and doubting Edward. Everything he has said to me has shown me how much he cares about me—in spite of my cancer, in spite of my insecurities—and Alice has just confirmed it. I let go of my own jealousy, let the music overtake me, and smile over at Alice. I take my bandana off my head, and dance happily and clumsily next to Alice, Ben and Angela as the music drifts into the cool October air.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **"You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever." Quoted from _Twilight_, page 273

What's one of your favorite _Twilight_ quotes? (Or FF quote?)


	8. Chapter 7: First Date

**Chapter 7**

**First Date**

Early Saturday morning my mom drives us in my new truck to the oncology clinic. The freeways are relatively empty, which is shocking in Southern California at any hour, and I enjoy the soothing sound of asphalt passing underneath our tires at a reasonable pace. The current weather is unusual for the locale as well—the sky a pale grey color with some fog just starting to lift off the roads. It is almost as if everyone is asleep and only we are out and about, even though there are a half a dozen cars in my vision alone on the freeway ahead of us. The fog makes me sleepy for some reason and my eyes drift down until my mom shakes me out of my slumber.

"I hope the fog clears for your date tonight," she says.

"Mom, it's twelve hours from now…and I'm sleeping."

"Yeah, but he lives by the coast, right? On the beach? So it's more likely to be foggy there."

"I don't know if it's _on_ the beach. I've never been to his house," I say, turning towards the window in the hopes of sleeping for a few more minutes before we get to the clinic. Then I remember something. "Besides, he's picking _me_ up later. I'm not sure where we're going for dinner. I don't think he'll drive all the way to our house just to head back towards his."

"Maybe you're right. What are you going to wear?"

I groan and turn back towards her. "_Renee_," I say for extra emphasis. "I'm _sleeping_. I wouldn't be so tired if you hadn't made me stay up to watch all _three_ of those eighties chick flicks last night."

"You can sleep at the clinic," she retorts. "Besides we're already here." She gestures out the window as she exits the freeway. "So," she continues. "Who do you think Edward is more like—Blane from _Pretty in Pink_ or Hardy from _Some Kind of Wonderful_ or Jake from _Sixteen Candles_?"

"RENEE!" I shout at her ridiculousness. This is what I get for agreeing to watch her favorite movies from when she was a teenager. "He's none of them!" And he isn't…he's not the shy, rich boy who won't stand up to his friends, or the cocky rich boy used to getting his way, or the rich boy who already has a girlfriend. Although, except for the girlfriend part, the Jake in _Sixteen Candles_ was very sweet…

"No? Not even Jake Ryan?" she continues even though I'm scowling at her.

"No. And I'm not Amanda Jones. Or Watts. Or whoever. And _I'm_ choosing the movies next week." I scowl at her, daring her to defy me. The scowl doesn't last long and eventually melts into a giggle. This conversation is just so _Renee_, so my mom. Which is why I let her choose the movies last night—it was a good distraction for her. She's been so worried about me that she hasn't been focusing as well. I even managed to humor her when she mentioned that she never really got to see all of _Some Kind of Wonderful_ when it first came out because she was at the drive-in on a date. Eww.

"Next Friday is the homecoming game, Bells. Aren't you going to that?" The football game is the night before the actual dance. I rarely go to the games—unless I have nothing else to do—and have missed even more of them this year with all of my admissions and the institution of our movie night. However, Rose is going to be 'crowned' as the junior princess—in other words, the princess for the junior class—during half time and I promised her that I would be there.

"Oh. Yeah. Raincheck on movie night then?" We pull into the hospital garage and head over to the clinic building.

-0-

An hour later, I'm lying in the recovery/infusion area of the clinic. My back is tingling from the lumbar puncture—they stick a needle in my spine every week to give me an injection of chemotherapy. Even though they haven't found any cancer cells in my brain or brain fluids, this chemo is to make sure none of it spreads there. I need to lie here for at least an hour, and I'm also getting chemo through my portacath IV. It's not the best way to spend a Saturday morning but it's better than missing more school.

My mom comes around the corner carrying two Dixie cups and hands me one of orange juice. "I think I met one of your friends, sweetie," she says.

I lift the cup to my face, then place it back down. The anti-nausea medications haven't kicked in yet and the smell of the juice is too strong. "I don't think I'm supposed to have orange juice yet, Mom. Maybe some water first?"

She nods her head and gives me the other cup, then gestures over to Tammy who is expertly maneuvering Maddie in a wheelchair and her IV pole over towards us. "It's Bella!" Maddie yells as soon as she sees me. Maddie looks paler than I've ever seen her, but there is still a certain brightness to her soft cheeks. This is the first time I have seen her without her wig on, presumably because she isn't wearing her tiara. She has pale peach fuzz covering her scalp and she looks as adorable as ever.

"Remember your inside voice, Maddie," Tammy says calmly to her as she picks her up and transfers her over to the gurney bed next to me.

"I'm not Maddie," Maddie responds in a slightly lower voice. "I'm Silvermist! Bella, you can be Tinkerbell. And my mommy is Queen Clarion."

"Oh, are we fairies today?" I ask her, smiling.

"Yup!" she says, beaming. Tammy places the Tinkerbell DVD in the player in front of us and Maddie settles down in front of it, mesmerized. We are the only two patients in this part of the clinic. From my vantage point, I can see each patient be led in by a nurse—some with and some without hair. I can't even tell which ones with hair are wearing wigs, and which ones must be in remission because their own hair has grown back.

"Tammy, I think you've already met my mom, Renee?"

"Yes, we met by the juice and cookies," Tammy says. "I know you're tired of answering this question, but how are you doing, Bella?"

I laugh at her wording. Clearly she has been around too many other sick teens. "I'm okay. My parents got me a truck for my birthday last weekend."

"Oh good for you! Happy belated birthday! Was it your sweet sixteen?"

"No, I'm seventeen. The truck is so cool, it's a classic—"

"Bella," my mom interrupts. "Why don't you tell her your other news?" I look at her for a long moment, confused. My mom just smiles widely at me; she's so giddy that she's almost bouncing in the plastic chair. "You know…about your date tonight?"

"I have an official date tonight with this guy I met a few weeks ago," I say finally, laughing at my mom's enthusiasm. "My mom's been talking about it nonstop since we got up this morning. She's more excited than I am."

"Bulls—" Mom starts to say, then glances over at Maddie. "Well, that's just not true, Bella. I know how excited you are to go out with Edward."

"That's great that you've met someone, Bella," Tammy intervenes. "Do you know where he's taking you?"

"No. So I have no idea what to wear…although I'm friends with his sister so maybe she could clue me in…"

We chat through the various possibilities and tone it down when Maddie says she can't hear her movie. "Can you use your inside voices, please?" she says and the three of us roll in laughter, and comply with her wishes. Tammy talks to my mom more in depth about Maddie's journey with her own cancer and I can see my mom relax a little for the first time since I was diagnosed. She also talks about how she hardly gets to see her husband ever since Maddie's sister, Sydney, was born because he watches her when she is at the hospital with Maddie and vice versa. My mom's brow furrows as Tammy talks about her husband with longing, and I'm unsure how to interpret her reaction. Has she not had enough time with Charlie? Maybe it's good that I'm going out tonight so that they could have a date of their own.

-0-

I pace my room furiously back and forth, which likely is not going to help my nausea improve. I'm still in my pajamas—a tee shirt and flannel pants—which I threw on immediately after we got home from the clinic. I glance at my clock again and squint at the red digital numbers. My vision is blurry but I can make out two something before I run back to the bathroom. Fortunately I get there in time, at least to the sink, and I throw up a small amount of yellowish fluid. Great. I haven't eaten anything all day so now I'm down to throwing up my stomach juices. Gross. When I get back to my room, my dad is waiting with a large Tupperware and a wet washcloth.

"I thought you could use a throw up bin so you don't have to keep running back and forth," he says. I nod my thanks, afraid to open my mouth. "Bella, are you sure you should be going tonight? Edward would understand if you had to postpone—"

He stops as soon as he notices that I'm glaring at him. "It's not usually this bad," I admit quietly.

"Well, didn't they give you some medicine you could take for the nausea?"

"Yeah—I had some in my IV at the clinic," I say slowly. "So I can take one of the pills at four."

"Okay, well, you could at least call him and tell him what's going on…that there's a chance that you can't go tonight…and then just see how you feel later." When I sigh in exasperation, he continues, "Would you rather be throwing up all over him?" I'm mortified by the thought so I lie down on my bed, place the washcloth on my forehead, and agree to call Edward in a few minutes.

Unfortunately I fall asleep and when I wake up it's almost four. I take one of the anti-throw up pills which dissolves in my mouth, then go to the bathroom to wash my face. I groan when I look in the mirror—not only am I so pale that I actually look green, but my hair is knotted all over the place. I suppose it doesn't matter since I was planning on showering before our date anyway. I'm still determined to meet Edward so I nibble on a few crackers that my dad left on my nightstand. I contemplate about what to tell him, then decide to just call him and get it over with.

As soon as I croak a 'hello' into the phone, Edward is full of concern. "Bella, love, what's wrong? Are you okay?" I smile in spite of myself. I like his new pet name for me.

"I'm okay, Edward." I sit up in bed so that my voice doesn't sound quite as horrible. "Just had chemo this morning and…had a bad reaction to it."

"Oh. Well, we could always go out another night…or we could hang out at your house if you're feeling okay."

"Um, I took some medicine so I'm hoping I'll be okay by the time you get here. I…uh…I'm sorry…I meant to call you earlier but I fell asleep."

"Why don't we play it by ear, love? I'll call you before I leave my house to see if you're still feeling up to it?"

I hesitate a moment. "Edward, I'm sorry. I hope you didn't make reservations somewhere?"

"Well…actually, I did, but we could always go there another time. Are you sure you don't want to cancel?"

"NO!" I practically shout. Not seeing him would really make this day suck. I made it through all the nausea by imagining gazing into his beautiful green eyes all throughout dinner. Plus, since I asked _him_ to homecoming, I was excited that this was _his_ date for me. I tone my voice down and continue, "I mean, at least we could hang out here if I'm still…vomiting. But I also think my parents may need some alone time themselves."

"Okay, Bella. We could always hang out at my house instead. I'll call you in a few hours."

My mom is already by my bedside as I hang up the phone. "Why don't you jump in the shower and I'll help you pick out something to wear?" I smile feebly at her enthusiasm but am grateful for her energy. It motivates me to start getting ready—slowly—as if I need any more motivation than the fact that Edward Cullen and I are going on a date. Maybe it's not the best of circumstances, but it's a date with him nonetheless.

By the time Edward rings the doorbell, my hands are clammy from anticipation and I've licked off all of my lip gloss. My dad answers the door and leads him into the living room where I'm _casually_ sitting on the couch flipping madly through one of my mom's fashion magazines. I can hear them talking in low tones to each other. I stand up as they enter the room, and Edward's face lights up as his gaze lands on me. He's wearing dark wash jeans and a black button down shirt, and in that moment I'm glad that I didn't listen to Renee's fashion advice. She had laid out several dress options and a bright red blouse with a white peasant skirt on my bed—all of which I vetoed. I was feeling sick enough that I just wanted to be comfortable. Instead we both agreed on my skinny jeans—which actually are a little loose from my weight loss—and a deep blue-turquoise blouse with a tiered cowl neckline and simple ruching down the sides. I think even Alice would approve.

"Hi, Bella," he breathes. "You look beautiful." I cross the room to meet him and roll my eyes as I say thanks quietly. I'm unsure if he's trying to impress Charlie or me. Renee comes tripping lightly into the room and welcomes Edward to our home as well.

"Where are you kids headed?" she asks.

"Mom—" I interject, but Edward answers at the same time as me.

"As long as you're feeling up to it, Bella, I'm hoping we can still go out," he looks back and forth between Renee and me. I nod my agreement. "I want it to be a surprise for Bella so I told Mr. Swan where we're going. He'll fill you in after we leave if that's okay." My mom squeals slightly and clasps her hands together. As opposed to me, she loves surprises.

"Edward, please call me Charlie," my dad says as he shakes his hand. "And I'll let Renee know the details. Have a good time." We say our goodbyes and Edward leads me out of the house and towards his car in our driveway. He presses his hand in the small of my back as he leads me—and it tingles just slightly—then guides me into his car after he opens the door for me.

"A silver Volvo?" I question him as soon as he's seated.

"What's wrong with my car?"

"Nothing," I giggle. "I just thought you'd have something flashier."

"You mean like that rusty truck over there?" he laughs and gestures over to my new truck that is parked next to us. He pulls out of the driveway quickly.

"Hey, that's a classic 1953 Chevy truck and it has a new coat of paint! There's no rust on it." I love my truck—it's bubble shaped and cute—the curves of the frame bubbles over the tires, and there is a little hood over the windshield. It's heavy as a tank, but sturdy and it has a ton of character. And best of all? It's a cool dark burgundy color.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with my Volvo—it's very safe. And I bet it's a lot faster than your birthday truck."

I can't argue with him on the last point so I change the subject. "So, are you really not going to tell me where we're going for dinner?"

He hesitates a moment then answers. "I thought we'd stop by my house first if you don't mind? My parents would like to meet you."

The dampness in my hands increases, but I smile at his nervousness as well. "Of course, I'd love to meet them." He pulls onto the freeway and I freely study his beautiful profile. He's clean-shaven (darn) and his jaw line is sharp and defined, one of the first things I noticed about him when I met him in the teen room at the hospital. His lashes are longer than mine, and his bronze hair is as untamed as ever, though it does have hints of gel in it tonight.

"Edward," I say finally, breaking the comfortable silence above the music playing softly in the background. "Do your parents know that I have leukemia?"

"Yes," he answers immediately. "They know that we met at the hospital, so I told them a little bit about what's going on. I hope that's okay." He turns to glance at me briefly as he says the last part.

"Yeah, that's fine. I'd rather _you_ told them than _me_, anyway," I admit.

He reaches over to place his hand on mine reassuringly. "Don't worry—they'll love you."

"Easy for you to say," I laugh. "You have even Charlie charmed!" Secretly I'm pleased, however. I thought my dad would be against me dating with everything else that is going on but he seems to be taking everything in stride. Jake and I had hung out over the summer at some parties, but we never went out just the two of us, so my dad doesn't really know about him.

Before long we are off the freeway and coasting down Pacific Coast Highway. I realize that I have no idea where he lives, just that it must be along the coast since he goes to Harbor. He turns off on one of the residential streets off of PCH and I breathe a sigh of relief that he doesn't turn into one of the fancy gated communities. That relief is short-lived.

We drive through a neighborhood that does not look ostentatious—more like beach bungalows from the seventies. Well, _large_ beach bungalows, some just slightly bigger than our house, others twice as large. When we get closer towards the coast, there is an eclectic mix in architecture. We follow the curve of the street that is at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. There is a road that leads down towards the beach area. In between one story beach bungalows are monster-looking mansions that take up two to four lots and look like they have sprung up overnight. One looks somewhat like an Italian Villa, another is reminiscent of New Orleans architecture, another is angular in a very modern style with darkly tinted windows. I'm about to comment on the randomness of the architecture when I realize that I have no idea which house could be Edward's house and I don't want to insult him.

"I know…some of the older houses have been bought out and new ones built in their place. They look odd juxtaposed against each other," Edward says when he glances over at my gaping mouth.

"Yeah," I agree. "So this is your neighborhood?" I gulp in nervousness. Whether or not his house takes up one or more than one lot, if he lives in this neighborhood, then his family has a lot more money than I would have thought. I've mostly seen Edward in tee shirts and shorts or jeans, and anything Alice wears is impeccable. Hmm…maybe my mom was right in comparing Edward to Jake Ryan from that movie…ironically enough all three of the movies we watched last night involved rich boys dating someone who wasn't as wealthy. Sort of like Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett as well. We're a stereotype, and just looking around Edward's neighborhood makes me even more uneasy. What if his parents don't like me?

"We live further on down the street." After we pass the main beach, houses start to line both sides of the street. The beach bungalows give way to slightly larger houses and lot sizes, and the architecture shifts slightly as well. There are less overnight McMansions in the area, and more of the houses seem to complement each other in style. Edward turns down one of the smaller streets and parallel parks his car. In front of us is an understated two-story house, light yellow in color with the feel of a European villa. It has angular sharp lines and is asymmetric—with the entrance on the left, where there is only one story, and two stories visible on the right side, with a small balcony off of the front bedroom. French doors lead to the front garden, which has soft lighting throughout. The entire house looks welcoming and unassuming.

He comes around quickly to finish opening my door for me and helps me out of the Volvo. Even though I don't need the help, I smile at his old-fashioned manners. We walk through a small gate and up a few paved steps along the walkway to the front door. Edward lets go of my arm to open the door.

"I'm surprised you don't have a garage," I say nervously.

"It's around back," he replies, nodding his head to the side of the house. I nod my head silently. "Mom, Dad, Bella is here," he calls out as we enter the house.

We walk through the vaulted ceiling entry way and I notice beautiful light colored hardwood floors throughout. I'm almost tempted to take off my shoes so as not to make anything dirty, but Edward keeps walking. The interior is painted in soft muted colors, similar to the exterior, yet everything has a warm and welcoming feel to it. The furnishings are simple and elegant, nothing too elaborate or uncomfortable looking. There is a black grand piano situated in the front room that I think must be visible from the street.

I fidget as we continue walking and I hear a male voice call out, "We're in the kitchen, Edward." I begin to regret eating crackers before coming over to dinner as the butterflies in my stomach start to twirl and dance. A striking man with blonde hair comes through the doorway to greet us. "Hello, you must be Bella. My wife and I are so happy that you were able to stop by before dinner."

"Hi, Mr. Cullen," I say politely. "Uh, Dr. Cullen, I mean. I'm so pleased to meet you." Crap, why couldn't I remember that his dad is a cardiothoracic surgeon?

"Please call me Carlisle," he says as he gently shakes my hand. He leads Edward and I towards the kitchen, where I'm assuming Edward's mom is waiting for us. The kitchen is three times the size of our kitchen at home. The hardwood floors continue along the entire first floor it seems, and match the kitchen cabinetry. Edward's mom is dressed in a bright red cocktail dress and her caramel colored hair is loosely piled on the top of her head. She is perched on a bar stool at the granite island centered in the middle of the room. She has a small plate of cheese and crackers in front of her, which she pushes aside as she stands up to greet me.

"Mom, I'd like you to meet Bella Swan. Bella, this is my mom, Esme Cullen."

"Pleased to meet you Mrs. Cullen," I say, unsure if it's okay to call her by her first name as well.

"It's Esme. And thank you, Bella, for all that you've done for our son." She looks meaningfully at me, and I glance quickly enough to notice the scowl on Edward's face, which disappears almost as soon as it appears. "Please excuse my eating…we are going to a benefit and it's practically impossible to get any food at those things." I nod my head as if I know what she is talking about and peek at her half-finished plate.

"You have a beautiful home," I say, and that's when it happens. The butterflies in my stomach decide that they've had enough flip-flopping around—my nervousness combines with my post-chemo nausea and I look towards Edward frantically. "Bathroom?" I whisper urgently, and then I dash back the way we came in and hope I'm headed in the right direction. Edward follows swiftly behind me and guides me towards the closest bathroom. I make it in time and slam the door immediately behind me before what little I've eaten flies out of my stomach and into the fancy tiled sink in the Cullens' downstairs bathroom.

I. am. officially. horrified.

The only saving grace is that I did not defile the immaculate kitchen in front of Edward's parents. I briefly wonder if Alice is home so that maybe she can help me salvage this night. After I am sure that I am done, I look at myself in the mirror. I look paler than I usually do—no different than the last few months, however—and my hair is still somewhat in place. I splash water on my face, then take a deep breath and exit the bathroom. Edward is waiting in the hallway for me, pacing back and forth.

"Bella, are you okay?" he leans closer to me as he asks, and I reflexively lean away. Nothings kills a date like post vomit breath.

"Yeah…um…just embarrassed," I admit, covering my mouth with my hand as I speak. "Do you have a spare toothbrush?"

"Of course…come with me." He grabs my hand and leads us back toward the kitchen. "Please don't feel bad. My parents understand…they are waiting to leave."

When we walk back into the kitchen, Carlisle and Esme are indeed waiting for us to return, though now they are wearing their coats. "Bella," Esme says immediately. "I hope you're feeling better."

"I'm sorry…I had chemo today…I—" Before I even have a chance to finish my explanation, Esme pulls me to her in a hug.

"Please don't feel bad. It's completely understandable," she whispers to me, then turns towards Edward. "Edward, honey, please make sure to invite Bella over for a family dinner sometime so we can get to know her better. Now I'm sorry, but Carlisle and I have to go…please make yourself at home." I'm speechless at this moment at how accepting they are that all I can do is politely wave goodbye.

After they leave for the benefit, Edward leads me upstairs. "I'll give you the tour later…let me just get you a toothbrush." He opens a cabinet in the upstairs hallway and directs me to the bathroom in his room. He hands me a new toothbrush and closes the door gently. I look around at his pristine bathroom as I brush my teeth. It's tiled all around in a cream-colored marble, and he has a very plush looking dark blue towel hanging on the rack. I gaze back at my reflection and notice that some of my color has returned—apparently simply staring at his towel and shower causes me to blush. I pause for a moment, then open the door to head back into his room.

Edward is sitting on a leather couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He is looking at me intently, almost as if he has been staring at the bathroom door the entire time I was in there. Now that I'm not worried about my breath, I take the time to look around his room. Behind the couch are built in mahogany bookshelves, half filled with books, half filled with records and CDs. His queen size bed is situated on the opposite end of the room with large square black pillows sitting atop a black and grey comforter. There is a desk in one corner, and a bay window with a built in bench. His room is much darker than the rest of the house but is instilled with the same warmth.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," he says quietly after a moment. His words freeze my heart and I turn my head back towards him. He is uncomfortable with me in his house. Does he regret asking me out?

"Um, I guess I can go home?" I say finally.

"Is that what you want?"

"No, but I understand if you want to just forget about dinner…"

"Bella," he says, standing up to cross the room in front of me. He lightly strokes my bare arms with his hands and I can feel the goose bumps form from the instant spark. "I'm sorry I made you come out when you clearly aren't feeling well. Will you be more comfortable at home? I don't mind hanging out with you there, if you don't mind the company."

I breathe a sigh of relief at his clarification. Will I ever understand this boy? My stomach feels more settled and, in fact, chooses that moment to announce that I have not eaten anything all day except for the aforementioned crackers that have recently left my body. I laugh—I can't help it. "I'm feeling better after I…you know, and I guess I'm hungry. I think we can still go out to dinner. Is the restaurant far from here?"

"No, in fact—" The doorbell chimes a short melody and interrupts him. "Hold on—let me get that. Do you mind waiting up here?"

"No, go ahead," I say. I look around his room after he leaves, and finally settle on the edge of his bed. The square black pillows are inviting, and as I sit down, I notice that they actually have a faint pattern on them. I wonder briefly if Esme decorated his room since he's mentioned that she is an interior decorator. I pull one of the pillows towards me to see if they smell like Edward—I can't help myself. Sandalwood, vanilla, Edward; all soothing to my already shot nerves. Then I realize that his parents are gone, Alice isn't home and we are here by ourselves…I jump up off his bed as soon as that thought enters my head. The last thing I want is for him to think I'm waiting for him on his bed. Instead, I wander over to his bookshelves and peek at some of the titles before settling down at the bay window. It is dark outside—a new moon, so no natural light filters in. I imagine Edward sitting in the same spot, flipping through one of his books, and staring out the window.

"You can see the ocean during the day," Edward seems to be reading my thoughts as he enters the room. He crosses his room quickly and places his hands on my shoulders. "Ready for dinner?"

"You have an ocean view from your room?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah, but the view is better from my parents' room," he replies nonchalantly, then adds, "Bella, you saw that we passed the beach on the way here…."

"I know…but…" I hesitate, then decide to drop the subject. "Okay, where to for dinner?"

"Um, well, I know you weren't feeling well earlier, so I ordered food for us. They just delivered it. I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's perfect."

Edward leads me back down the stairs and into the kitchen where he's set up the take out boxes. "The courtyard or the backyard?" he asks and I look back at him, perplexed. "I planned on us taking the food down to the beach—that's why I parked in front," he continues. "But I think we should just stay here…uh…just in case you get sick again."

He intertwines one of his hands with mine, and I think to myself that I'd follow him anywhere. One of the side doors off the main hallway opens up to a center courtyard—complete with a simple yet beautiful fountain. There are unlit candles and two place settings on a small round table. Now I know why the outside of the house is asymmetric; the hallway we entered lines the front of the house and leads to the other side and back where there is access to the bedrooms. This is definitely a house that was designed for entertaining. We step outside briefly, and then Edward leads me toward one of the back rooms to a living room and another set of French doors. He opens one of the doors, and points towards the iron wrought patio furniture. There is a longer rectangular glass table, also set for two with unlit candles. The table overlooks an immaculately trimmed garden—the main dark peach colored tiles giving way to a sort of trail that leads further back amongst perfectly manicured miniature palm trees and birds of paradise. Off to one side is an outdoor grotto, a small manmade rock waterfall feeding into the grotto wall, which then spills into a narrow pool or spa.

"Um, option two, I guess," I say softly, smiling at him.

"Okay, go ahead and have a seat and I'll bring everything out."

I frown at him. "No way. You've already set everything else up. I'm coming with you." We quickly return to the kitchen and set the take-out along with glasses, matches, sparkling cider and water on a small wooden cart with wheels. I start opening the take-out boxes, while Edward lights the candles and pours the drinks.

"Edward, what did you order?" I ask, when I realize that I've opened at least four different entrees—one pasta alfredo with chicken, a shrimp dish, some sort of ravioli with a tomato based sauce and fresh basil, two types of salad, and two individually wrapped chunks of lasagna.

"Um, I wasn't sure what you'd like so I ordered a variety of things…it's okay we don't have to finish it all." I laugh at the guilty look on his face. He is so thoughtful that it is unreal.

We sit down and Edward lifts his champagne glass to me, "To our first date," he says. "And may there be many more."

I roll my eyes at his cheesiness, but clink glasses with him anyway. Then I notice that he has water in his glass. "Are you trying to slip something in my cider, Edward? Why aren't you drinking any?"

He laughs. "It's just too sweet for me…"

"With all you've done for this dinner, I'm surprised you didn't bring out a bottle of actual champagne."

"Bella, do you really think my parents would let me drink? And get you drunk?" I shake my head.

We try a little bit of everything, and finally my stomach has settled down. No more butterflies, no more nausea. I look around at the romantic candles giving off a light vanilla scent, and the soft yet continuous flow and babble of the waterfall that seems to fill in the quietness of our conversation and I feel calm. Happy. Almost like I belong here with Edward. "I like this restaurant," I say finally.

"I'm glad," he answers and leans over to stroke the back of my hand, sending tingles up my arm.

We load up our dishes and the leftovers onto the rollaway cart. "Leave it," Edward says. "We'll finish up later." He pulls me over to the other end of the garden, opposite of the grotto. There is an outdoor fireplace, complete with chimney, all done in a dark peach color to match the tiles. Surrounding the fireplace are several chairs with stark white cushions and a low wooden coffee table. He starts a low fire, then turn towards me. "Are you getting cold?" He strokes his hands up and down my arms like he did earlier and I laugh lightly.

"I'm okay…we could always go inside."

"But then how could we dance?" he asks, mischievously as he pulls me in towards him.

"Uh, I don't dance, Edward," I answer, backing away from him slightly.

"Ever?"

"Ever. I told you that, remember?"

"Well, we need to practice before homecoming next weekend," he counters. "Besides, it's all in the leading." He places our arms in proper position, as if we're about to ballroom dance or break into a waltz, and then amazingly we're moving slowly back and forth. I follow his lead and he's right—I don't step on his feet once, even when he twirls me around.

"Edward, there's no music," I say when I start to feel self-conscious. The electricity flying between us is magical yet unbearable all at once. My whole mind is a jumbled mess intermingled with a feeling of euphoria. I have no idea what to make of it.

"I know," he says, not loosening his grip on me. Instead he pulls me in tighter and leans down and forward into me, causing me to hold my breath briefly. Before I know it, his soft lips are on mine, and everything is perfect and right with the world. The feeling of euphoria morphs into passion and all the confusion dissipates. It's just Edward and me in the moment. He moves both of his hands to my lower back and pulls me in closer. I gasp, and push back on him.

"Bella," he says softly as he finally releases me. "I'm sorry…I thought that…"

"Edward, it's okay," I interject, mortified that he would actually think that I didn't want him to kiss me. "It's just that I had an LP this morning and my back is still a little sore…" Now the euphoria morphs again, this time into the all-familiar embarrassment that seems to infuse all of my interactions with Edward.

"Maybe we should clean up?" he asks gently. I nod, sad that the moment is over. We bring the cart back into the kitchen and Edward starts cleaning up immediately after guiding me to one of the bar stools. I start to protest, but he insists that I've already had a tiring day. My bar stool is the perfect vantage point for watching him wash the dishes—I can see all his muscles flex through his shirt as he moves about the kitchen.

"So, with this big house, you guys have no housekeeper to clean up?" I tease him. He glances over his shoulder at me.

"Someone comes in once a week. My mom loves to cook, and we all pitch in or take turns cleaning up afterwards." Suddenly I realize that I like Esme even more—the sound of her domesticity in the midst of such luxury makes her seem more down to earth. I realize how unpretentious, how friendly and open both Edward and Alice are, and how immediately I felt comfortable around them even though that's not usually the case for me. Edward is quick in washing the dishes and putting away the food, and I study the musculature in his arms, and imagine them around me, as they were a few moments before.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, and I realize suddenly that he's done cleaning up.

"Uh," I blush. "Nothing. Just our dancing earlier…"

"Oh really?" He walks closer to me.

"I mean…what happened to your brace?" I gesture down to his legs, trying not so subtly to shift subjects.

"I'm done with it."

"Really? Are you all done with physical therapy too?"

"No, I'm still going to that, but I don't have to wear the brace anymore. And I can drive again, obviously. Just can't ski, or do certain sports…"

"That must be a pain," I sympathize. My whole world has changed since I was diagnosed with leukemia. Just the thought of doing summer school makes me shudder. But, I'd rather do that than fall behind or homeschool.

"I'm used to it." He shrugs his shoulders.

"Yeah, you've had surgeries for your knee before, right? What did you do to it?"

"Initially, I messed it up skiing."

"Oh…and now you can't ski? I'm sorry."

"Well, I can still dance…." he trails off, and his charming crooked smile flashes at me, threatening me at the same time.

"I noticed."

"Besides, it's nothing…nothing compared to what you're going through."

"Oh." I look down at the granite counter top in front of me, willing the marble swirls to make shapes. I wish that I had met Edward in different circumstances. Yet, how would we have met if not at the hospital? I think about our earlier kiss, and hope that he doesn't think I was using my soreness as an excuse to pull away. But, what next? What more will he put up with before he gets tired of dating the sick girl? Is it fair of me to let him go through all of this craziness with me? He has no obligation to—we've only known each other for a few weeks. He's not my boyfriend, my fiancée, or my husband. He's not my family. He's my friend, someone I've barely just met, someone I've gone on my official first date with. A first date full of nausea and vomiting, and fatigue and pain.

"Edward, do you mind taking me home now? I'm kind of tired," I whisper, hoping he won't catch me in my lie. I have always been a horrible liar. His phone beeps and he checks his messages and briefly texts someone back.

"Are you sure? We could…" he trails off as I nod my head. "Okay, we can always hang out another time. Um, I think I have to check on my friend, anyway."

"Is that Kate?" I ask, remembering the stunning blond from the concert. His non-sick friend.

"No, it's her boyfriend, Garrett…uh, I just need to check on him…He's sort of going through a rough time right now." I'm tempted to ask him more about it, but I know that if he wanted me to know, then he would tell me. Now at least I wouldn't have to feel guilty about ducking out so early on him on a Saturday night.

The ride home is quiet. I'm lost in my thoughts and Edward seems to be as well. He's gripping the steering wheel tightly, but his calm face doesn't reveal anything. I wonder if he's angry that I wanted to go home, or if he's relieved. I wonder if he would have gone to check on his friend if I hadn't asked to go home, if he would have made up some excuse to end our date early.

We pull into my driveway, and I can see the flashes of the television from the front window of the living room. "Edward," I say as he shuts the engine. "I'm sorry I ruined our date."

"You didn't ruin our date, Bella," he says sincerely. "You had chemo today, you're tired. Of course you want to go home early. I had a great time with you." I look away, outside the window, unsure how to respond so he continues, "Besides, this was just our _first_ date, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. I ruined our first date, then, and my first date _ever_." I mumble most of the last sentence. I'm unsure if I want him to hear what I'm saying, but I can't help the melancholy that has clouded over me. Maybe I'm feeling sorry for myself at this point, maybe I'm just annoyed that he's going to hang out with his friends right now, including Kate, even if she has a boyfriend.

"This was your first date?" he asks. "What about Jake? Or some of the other guys at your school?"

I shake my head. "Jake and I mostly hung out at parties, or with our friends…"

"Bella," Edward says as he turns my head to face him. "This was a great first date because it was with _you_." He leans closer to me, and I start to pull away, but realize that I don't want to. Maybe it's selfish of me, but the moment his lips meet mine, I don't care. I want him to want to kiss me, to not regret meeting me, to not regret our earlier kiss. The sparks flicker between us and I can't think of anything else. I eventually pull away. We still have homecoming, but I have a lot of things to sort through between now and then.

This time, at least, Edward doesn't apologize as I pull away from him. Instead he has that lopsided grin on his face that almost tempts me into kissing him again. "Oh. I almost forgot. Happy belated birthday, Bella." He reaches in the back seat and hands me a slim brown paper bag.

"I thought we weren't celebrating my birthday," I retort as I reach into the bag, and pull out a small leather bound journal.

"That's why it's not wrapped," he replies smoothly. "I thought that maybe since you like reading so much, you might want to write about what you're going through now. You know…since it can be overwhelming and—" He stops as he notices my eyes start to tear up. "Crap. I'm sorry, Bella. You don't have to use it if you don't want to. I just thought—"

"Edward, stop. It's perfect. Thank you." I wrap my arms around him and hug him awkwardly in the front seat of his car. "I better go in before Charlie decides to come out and look for me."

Edward runs around to open my door for me, then escorts me up our porch steps. He leans over to hug me, and kisses me gently on the top of my head. "Good night, love."

"Good night, Edward. And thanks…for everything." I wave back to him as he starts his engine and backs out of my driveway.

As soon as I open the front door, my mom pounces on me, squealing. "Mom, calm down. What if I was bringing Edward in here with me?"

For a moment, she looks horrified, then says, "You're right…next time I'll watch t.v. upstairs instead in case you want to bring him in…"

"Relax, mom, I'm just teasing."

Suddenly she glances at the clock and realization dawns. "Bella, what are you doing home so early? Didn't the date go well?"

"It was perfect, Mom. I just was tired, that's all. I'm going up to bed, okay?"

"Okay, honey, but we're talking about it in the morning. I want details!" I nod my head, knowing that it's the only way my mom will let me go. "And don't worry, Charlie will be gone fishing, so you don't have to say anything embarrassing in front of him."

I walk back to my room, frowning as I realize that Charlie is not up waiting for me with Renee. My dad is going fishing tomorrow, which means that he must have gone to bed early to get up at the crack of dawn. Which also means that he and my mom did not spend the evening together as I had hoped.

I change into my pajamas and wash my face as I contemplate my date with Edward. I flop onto my bed and flip through the expensive parchment paper in the journal that he gave me. That's when I see it—the inscription. _For your beautiful words, my Bella. Love, Edward_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

The Cullens' house for this story (exterior only): (Yes, it's a $7M house!)

www(dot)realtor(dot)com/realestateandhomes-detail/223-Poppy-Ave_Corona-Del-Mar_CA_92625_1109792489?source=web

What's your best or worst first date experience?


	9. Chapter 8: Homecoming

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who is reading, favoriting and reviewing-it's really inspiring me to finish writing this story. FF won't let me reply to the reviews for the last few chapters, but I'm hoping they'll fix it soon...

SM owns Twilight and its characters.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

**Homecoming**

Alice comes over to my house bright and early the day after my date with Edward. Renee, of course, lets her in—even though I am still asleep and not expecting her—because she wants desperately to hear about my date as well.

"Alice," I groan, when she bounces onto my bed. "It's too early…"

"Nonsense," she responds. "I came to help you with your dress…and hear details about last night."

"Couldn't you have just asked Edward? Or is he still asleep too?"

"I already did." This piques my interest as I wonder how much Edward would confide in his sister. I sit up in bed, and can feel my stringy hair making strange shapes above me.

"Where's your brush, Bella? Should we practice doing your hair for next weekend? Let me see your dress so we can figure out if it should be up or down!" She jumps off my bed to my dresser, searching—presumably—for my hairbrush.

"Alice," I say, warningly. "What. Did. Edward. Say? And I can comb my hair myself." I snatch my brush out of her hands before she can touch my hair.

She shrugs her shoulders and laughs lightly. "Oh. _Now_ we're awake…"

"Alice!"

"Okay, okay! Um…he really didn't say much, that's why I came over here…I think he did mumble something about 'best date ever' before tossing a pillow at me and then turning over in bed."

I grab a tee shirt and jeans out of my dresser and take my dress out of the closet for Alice to inspect while I get ready. Rosalie and I chose it weeks ago—it is a deep midnight blue organza, with a modest halter top and three layered ruffles that end at my knees. A little less dressy than some of my friends' dresses—certainly much less dressy than Rose's dark green satin dress with its long train—but I know that I won't be able to pull off a longer dress without falling all over Edward. Alice squeals as I hand her the dress on my way to the bathroom.  
>"The color is perfect for your skin tone!"<p>

Over breakfast, I give Alice and my mom some small details about our date. My horror over getting sick. Edward's sweet and caring reaction. A slight mention of dancing. And the thoughtful non-birthday gift.

"No kissing?" my mom questions with a look of disappointment on her face. It immediately turns to a knowing smile when my cheeks blaze and I don't give her an answer.

I'm slightly annoyed when Alice insists I try on my dress for her so she could fully visualize it. I guess I can't really complain since she ends up tweaking my dress in all the right places so that it would fit me better. Apparently I have already lost a bit of weight in the last few weeks. She hauls in her sewing machine and various paraphernalia, then works her magic.

"What about your dress, Alice? I know you're making yours, don't you have some last minute things to do on it?" I ask after she has spent most of the day with my mom and me.

She waves off my concern. "Are you kidding me? I finished _my_ dress the night Jasper asked me to go with him." I laugh at her energy—of course she did.

-0-

I start to daydream in my classes about soft lips, electric kisses, and verdant eyes gazing into mine so intensely that I start to spill all my secrets to him without even realizing it. Luckily most of my teachers give me some leeway when I'm staring off into space because of my illness. That and almost every other junior and senior seem to be preoccupied as well—heads filled with fancy crinkly dresses and matching shoes and the game and pictures for the dance that is rapidly approaching.

At lunch I check my messages on my cell phone and find a text from Edward sent earlier that morning. Covenant has a strict 'cell phones off' during school policy, but most of the teachers are more lax during break time.

_Went home sick. –E_

I quickly text him back.

_Are you ok? –B_

_Just at dr's now. Can't bring u tomorrow. Sorry. –E_

Edward is at the doctor's? I wonder briefly if it's something regarding his knee, but know that that wouldn't stop him from taking me to my appointment. He had insisted on driving all the way from his school to mine only to turn around and bring me to the clinic, since I likely would be too nauseous to drive myself home afterwards.

_Call me after school. _ He texts me again when I haven't responded.

The second the last bell rings, I whip open my phone to call him, but it goes straight to voice mail. However, my own voice mail alarm beeps, so I listen to my messages. There is a garbled message from Edward saying that he's okay, just throwing up, no fevers, but didn't want to get me sick before Homecoming. There is either a long pause or part of the call drops before I can hear his voice pick up again, "And Bella, I'm sorry I won't see you tomorrow, but I'm determined to dance with you on Saturday. Bye, love."

My phone rings almost immediately after I hang up, and it's Alice, of course, wanting to update me and reiterate Edward's message. She explains that he's sleeping and that he'll get back to me soon. Although I'm disappointed that I won't see him before the dance—unless he decides to join us at the game—I am so touched at how he always manages to put me first. His concern isn't over himself, but over the fact that he doesn't want to get me sick. It's not an unreasonable concern—from what I hear from Tammy, I need to call my doctors for every little illness and then they determine whether or not I need to be seen or even admitted to the hospital immediately. Angela and Dr. G have told me the same thing, but I guess I didn't take it seriously enough until Tammy told me many stories of going in with Maddie. Many seemingly run-of-the-mill illnesses that turned out to be close calls. I need to take care of myself as much as I can if I want to call myself a survivor. A cancer survivor.

As I muse over Edward's thoughtfulness, I try to push to the back of my mind the fact that he _has_ to treat me differently because I _am_ sick. Again I wonder when he's going to get tired of the novelty of dating the sick girl. If there is any novelty at all. I shake my head from these thoughts as I run to catch up with my friend, Vanessa, in the parking lot to see if I could hitch a ride with her tomorrow.

-0-

"Hey, Bells," Vanessa says as we get on the off ramp to the clinic and hospital. "Can I…um…ask you something?" She has been uncharacteristically quiet during the drive and I start to wonder if something is wrong.

"Of course, girl, anything. You know that."

"Uh…" she pauses and her face flushes immediately. She is the only person I know who blushes as much as I do. "What happened between you and…um, Jake?"

"I think I told you and Rose everything already," I say truthfully. "Why?"

"I mean…do you still have feelings for him?"

"No…um, I'm not sure if I ever did," I admit. "I think Jake and I maybe should have been just friends all along…"

She ponders what I've said for a moment, then turns towards me as she pulls into the clinic parking garage. "Really?"

"Yup." I've never been more certain of anything in my life. "I guess I was just more…curious than anything else. God, that sounds awful." I throw my head into my hands in embarrassment even though I know that Vanessa wouldn't judge me. Rosalie, Vanessa and I go way back, and they know almost every detail of my previous relationships.

"No, it doesn't. I remember you saying that at the time, too...Uh, did you know that I met Jake a few weeks ago at one of the games?"

I turn to look at her then and notice that she's fiddling with her keys as she's facing me. The engine is off, but neither of us make a move to get out of the car. "Haven't you already met?"

"Yeah, so we sorta met again…and really hit it off," she pauses, then proceeds to say in rapid succession, "I really like him. He asked me to Homecoming. But I won't go if you feel funny about it…"

I have her repeat herself more slowly so I can understand what she is saying. Then, I just can't help it; I start giggling. I try to recover and start talking as best as I can, however, because I don't want one of my best friends feeling bad about liking someone as great as Jake. "Vanessa, do you really think I'd say you couldn't go?" I finally ask her.

"You don't mind?" she asks, tentatively.

"Of course not! Jake's a sweetheart…we just never had the right…spark. Plus, I'm excited that you're going to Homecoming!"

"You know Rosalie was going to make me go, date or not, anyway," she retorts, smiling.

"Yeah, I got the same threat. But now we're both going with guys we really like!" Vanessa visibly relaxes, and we both can't stop grinning at each other. Finally I get up to go so I won't be late for my appointment.

-0-

Friday rolls around more quickly than I thought it would. Edward stays home from school for a few days and is much better by the weekend so he says he'll stop by the game. The Benedict football games are a little surreal normally, even much more so when it is a 'special' game like Homecoming. The Benedict boys are fiercely protective of their alma mater, and also just as intensely devoted to their teams. As such, they hardly have a need for a cheerleading squad in the literal sense—many of the guys paint their faces, wear the school colors of black and white, and lead their own chants and cheers with megaphones.

Vanessa and I follow Rosalie to her house after school to help her get ready for the half-time show. She and the sophomore princess will ride on the float with the four senior princesses, where the Homecoming Queen will be crowned. The whole ceremony is a little cheesy, in my opinion, but it is a part of tradition and since I don't have to be the one riding on the float—and possibly falling face first on the float—I am more than happy to participate.

Vanessa and I basically just hang out while Rosalie fiddles with different hairstyles—she is, after all, better than we are at primping. We finally all agree that she should wear her hair up since it complements the sweetheart neckline of her strapless dark green gown. I fill them both in on my official first date with Edward. It's the most 'girlie' conversation we have had—we have had many conversations about boys, but I have never felt this giddy sensation before. Vanessa, in turn, gushes all about Jake. We don't notice for a while that Rosalie is unusually quiet.

"I guess it's always like that, at first," she says finally with a sigh, as she pins her hair up.

"Actually I never felt like this about Jake," I offer, and then turn to Vanessa. "Sorry, girl, he's hot but just not my type."

"I don't mind," she answers honestly. "Since he's _mine_ now…well, sort of." We both giggle at her statement.

"It must be chemistry, like they say," I add.

"Or pheromones…" she contributes. Rosalie rolls her eyes at the two of us. She looks…sad somehow. Not mad at our silliness…maybe jealous? I can sense that my brows are furrowed as I'm staring at my beautiful friend, trying to discern her thoughts. Just as quickly, Rosalie plasters a smile on her face and I wonder if I imagined things. Maybe she's nervous about tonight?

"You look beautiful," I say sincerely. "The other girls will be jealous."

"Yeah, right," she snorts. She places the last pin in her hair, then gathers up her make up bag. "You guys can start on your nails while I do my make-up." Rosalie had both a manicure and pedicure professionally done the day before. I am surprised, actually, that her mom didn't hire a hairstylist for her today, but then assume she may have waited for tomorrow—the actual day of the dance—instead.

"How about this color?" Vanessa holds up a coral color bottle next to my hands to see how it looks. "Would this go okay with your dress?" I shrug my shoulders, and she holds onto my fingers with the movement. Suddenly she pulls her hand back and places her empty hand on my forehead. "Bella! You feel really warm."

"I'm fine," I say, though I do feel like it is warmer in the room than earlier. Maybe all the boy talk has embarrassed me?

"Rose, you check."

Rosalie puts down her make-up brush, walks over to us, and repeats Vanessa's gesture. Finally she drops her hand. "Bella, you _do_ feel warm. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah…maybe we should just open the windows?"

"I think we should take your temperature," Rose orders. "Aren't you supposed to call your doctor if you have fevers?" I start to protest, but it's futile. Once Rosalie has her mind made up, there is no arguing with her.

"One-oh-two," she says when she's done. "Do you want to call your mom first or your doctor?" I sigh in frustration and irritation. Of course, she's right—I know that I need to call my doctor, but the last thing I want to do is be told that I have to go to the hospital tonight. _Not_ after staying away from Edward all week specifically so I would not get sick.

"I'll page my doctor first…that way I can tell Renee the plan before she panics. Um…maybe they'll just say I need to rest tonight?" Vanessa and Rose just nod their heads at me but I can tell that they are humoring me. We all know that the game is out…the real question is whether I can still go to the dance tomorrow night.

Unfortunately one of the other fellows is on call tonight. He tells me to go to the hospital immediately and that he'll call the floor to make sure there is a room available, or if I need to go to the emergency room instead first. He is very no nonsense about asking if I have any other symptoms—cough, runny nose, vomiting, diarrhea, rash. It sounds like I am going to be admitted no matter what. The upside is that he tells me that Angela is rounding this weekend because she is on call, so I am slightly hopeful that I might get to go home tomorrow. As soon as I get off of the phone, I call my parents to meet me at the hospital and Vanessa drives like a madwoman to get me there.

"Vanessa!" I finally shout. "It's not life or death…it's just a fever. Besides, you're making me car sick."

She slows down to the speed limit. "Sorry…I just want to get back in time for Rose," she says sheepishly. "She seemed a little _off_, tonight, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Do you think it has to do with Royce?"

"She hasn't mentioned anything. Just that he was meeting her at the game and that her parents were going to drive her there."

_The game._ Edward. I glance at the clock on my phone, then quickly call him, hoping he hasn't left yet.

-0-

One of the residents practically follows us into the hospital room as we arrive and asks me immediately if my parents are here. She seems like she is in a rush, and apologizes quickly as she steps out of the room to answer a page.

"Sorry, Isabella," she says as she runs back in, interrupting Sue who has been taking my vitals, asking questions, and accessing my port-a-cath IV. I notice that the bright pink streaks from last time are gone from Sue's hair and that it is significantly longer, as if her sister has added extensions. The resident turns towards Sue and apologizes as well, "Sorry, do you mind if I admit her real quick?"

Sue smiles knowingly and answers, "Don't worry, doc, I've heard that you guys are getting killed upstairs. I'll just finish getting report."

Vanessa and I look at each other in confusion and the resident answers, "We just had five admits roll in at the same time and some of the interns are kind of slow, and it's shift change for the nurses. Are your parents here yet?"

"No," I respond. "But they're on their way…and I know my history."

She breathes a sigh of relief, then asks me rapidly about my symptoms, when I was first diagnosed, last chemo, medications, and allergies. "The rest I'll get from your chart, Isabella."

My parents arrive as she is examining me, and Vanessa leaves then—unwilling to leave me alone otherwise. The resident gets paged four or five times during my exam—she glances at her pager quickly then shakes her head.

"Okay, well, it's the usual 'fever rule out sepsis' admission which I'm sure you are familiar with. I'll call the oncologist on call and start the usual orders. I don't think that they'll give you antibiotics since you're not having any other symptoms. Any questions?" She says everything in rapid succession, and when I look over at my mom and dad, they are blinking quickly at her words.

"Um…this is the first time I've been admitted for fevers. Usually it's just chemo," I say slowly. "Can you explain to us the 'usual' routine?"

For the first time that evening, she takes a deep breath and smiles apologetically. Then she ignores her pager and goes through the procedure in detail for the three of us and calmly answers my dad's questions, even if they are repetitive. She also explains that they will draw blood work, including cultures to see if I have an infection and that the length of my hospital stay depends on when my fevers stop and what the labs show. When she is done making sure all of our questions are answered, my mom turns to give her a hug, "Thank you for taking the time to explain it to us."

She bites her lip, and nods her head. "No problem…And Isabella? There's nothing to worry about, okay?" I nod my head back at her, not wanting to seem like a whiney teenager by asking her about the dance since she likely doesn't know.

After she leaves, my dad and I spend a few minutes calming my mom down and reiterating the 'routine-ness' of my admission. "Mom, I'm going to be okay," I say. "It's just a fever, remember? They're just being cautious."

There's a knock at the door. I'm getting used to this; it's always a quick knock then someone—a nurse, a lab person, a doctor—will storm in. This time no one comes in so when I hear the knock again, I call out, "Come in!"

Edward walks slowly—almost tentatively—into the room. His hands are in his pockets and he is wearing a mask over his mouth and nose so I cannot see if his half-smile is there or not. I can, however, see the worry in his eyes. "Bella, Mr. Swan, Mrs. Swan," he greets us, his musical voice muffled by the constraints of the mask. "Is it okay if I come in?" He walks towards us anyway, not waiting for an answer, and reaches over to shake my dad's hand. My mom smiles for the first time tonight.

I roll my eyes at his over-polite words and gestures. "Edward, how did you get in?" I glance quickly at my watch. "Isn't it after visiting hours?"

"You know I know people, Bella." He laughs softly, then becomes more serious. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just a fever…they're just being careful." I look over at my parents briefly then back at Edward. "Um…"

Luckily my mom rescues me. "Bella, is your car still at school? Maybe Dad and I will pick it up and drive it home, then he can drop me back here to spend the night with you. That way I can pick up my overnight bag."

"I can do that if you want to stay with Bella—" Edward starts to offer but my dad interrupts.

"No, we can handle it, son. Bella, I'll see you tomorrow." He walks over to hug me, which surprises me. Although I have never doubted my dad's love for me, he isn't what you would call an overly affectionate dad. I hug him tightly, and notice the weary bags under his eyes, the creases in his forehead. He has been more worried about me than he's been letting on.

After my parents leave, Edward and I sit side by side on the two plastic chairs in the room. I refuse to sit on the bed any more than necessary; I am not an invalid. Sue comes in briefly to finish up her questions and bring a recliner that turns into a fold out bed for my mom. She also starts some medicine through my IV, so now I'm stuck maneuvering an IV pole around.

When Sue leaves, Edward takes off his mask and turns towards me. "Sorry to interrupt your admission. I couldn't stand the thought of going another day of without seeing you…" His beautiful lips quirk up into a smile.

"Well, it has been _six_ days…" I start, then pause for a moment. "Edward, I'm sorry—"

"Bella, love" he interrupts and places his hand on top of mine. "You better not be apologizing about getting sick."

"But homecoming…I don't think I'll be able to go tomorrow," I confess.

"You didn't want to go in the first place," he reminds me as he shrugs his shoulders.

It is as if he does not mind that we won't get to go. As much as I complained about going, I have been dreaming of twirling in his arms in my blue dress. I don't answer him and stare at our feet on the linoleum floor instead. I find myself blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Finally I look up at him and mumble, "You know I wanted to go with _you_."

"Do you really think you'll still be in the hospital?" he asks, running his hand lightly through his hair, realizing what my silence means. "We can have homecoming here if you are…I'll bring us dinner, and I'll even promise not to order four entrees this time."

I smile at his plan, relief filling all of my being. "Aren't you supposed to be wearing the mask?"

"Is that a 'yes' or a 'no', Swan?"

"Fine. Yes."

"Will you wear your dress?" he presses. "If you're feeling okay, of course."

"I don't think Alice would forgive me if I didn't," I say honestly. "After all the alterations she did on it."

We make plans for the next day until Sue comes back in to send Edward home. "It's an hour and a half after visiting hours, Edward," she says simply, and he nods and leaves immediately in the hopes that she will make another allowance for him tomorrow night.

My mom returns shortly thereafter, and before I can tell her our plans for the next day, she hands me a dress carrier knowingly.

-0-

The next morning is a whirlwind of vitals, rounds with Angela and Dr. G, calls from my girlfriends, including Alice, and multiple texts from Edward. So far all of my labs are okay, my cultures are 'negative', and I find out I have been started on an antibiotic, just in case.

Shortly after lunch, Sue unexpectedly walks into my room. She is wearing regular clothes instead of her usual scrubs, which confuses me, but not any more than seeing her during the daytime rather than at night.

"What's going on, Sue? Did you get any sleep?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

She smiles widely and nods at my mom. "Don't worry about me, hon. I'm off tonight…but your mom and I thought that you might need some help with your hair for your date."

"What?" Now I'm really confused. I glance at Renee, who looks incredibly giddy and like she's about to burst. Charlie grins briefly at me, over the newspaper he is reading.

"My sister is a hairstylist," Sue explains, lifting up the ends of her extensions. "If you would like her to, she is here to do your hair for your dance."

"Oh," I am speechless for a moment, then I realize something. "Um, you know that I have to stay in the hospital, right? That it's just Edward coming to visit?"

"Yes, but aren't you still dressing up?" Sue asks tentatively.

"And we need to take pictures!" Renee reminds me.

I groan at their excitement, but am touched at their thoughtfulness. Clearly Sue and my mom planned this out last night. "Um, okay, as long as she doesn't make my hair pink," I joke, recalling the bright streaks in Sue's hair during one of my earlier admissions. Sue claps her hands together, then goes outside to give her sister the go-ahead. Her sister pushes herself into the room in a wheelchair, and Sue follows with a trolley full of hairstyling supplies.

"Bella, I'm Leah, Sue's sister. It's so good to meet you. Now are we going to be working with your natural hair or a wig? And don't mind the chair—I have cerebral palsy, but I promise I can work wonders with my hands."

"Um, I'd prefer my natural hair…it's thinning out so you'll have to be careful. Uh, Edward hasn't seen me in my wig. I'm not that comfortable with it yet," I confess.

I sit down in a plastic chair and Leah works quickly and expertly around me, wheeling her chair all around. When she is done, my hair falls down in soft waves with the illusion of extra volume. I almost wish Leah could do my hair for me every day, but then I realize that my tattered strands likely couldn't take the daily curling iron and massive amounts of hair spray that she's used.

By the time Edward arrives, I am all decked out in my midnight blue dress with a vintage beaded sweater on top to combat the freezing hospital air-conditioned room. My dad has moved on from his newspaper to one of his fishing magazines, nonchalantly twitching his fingers against the camera, while my mom is bouncing in her seat with excitement.

Edward walks gracefully in—without his mandatory mask—crooked grin in place, holding a plastic container in one hand. Inside is a single faintly pink rose, simply and beautifully made into a corsage. Edward is just Edward—he's impeccably dressed in a dark grey button down with a matching grey tie that has hints of blue in it and dark wash jeans. My mom jumps up immediately, and I stand up to follow her.

"Charlie and I are going out to dinner and then a movie," she says before I can even say hello to him. "But we wanted to take pictures first, if you don't mind."

"How are you, Renee, Charlie?" Edward greets them, reverting back to their first names at their request, yet still the picture of utter politeness. "Bella, this is for you." He hands me the corsage, and leans in to whisper to me only, "The color of your blush. You look beautiful tonight."

Cue my predictable reaction—my cheeks heat and I am sure that they match the lightness of the pink rose. "Thank you." He grins at the similarity. My mom helps me put the corsage on my sweater. I have the second button closed over my dress. Even though I am not currently getting any fluids through my IV, my port-a-cath is still 'accessible', meaning that there is an IV connector and clear bandage holding it in place quite conspicuously peaking out of the halter top of my dress. I realize that our pictures will be taken in a _hospital_ room since I am only allowed out in the hallways of this floor—and even then only with a mask for my protection—but I still don't want my port-a-cath visible.

Edward leaves briefly and returns carrying a canvas bag and a large white paper bag. I recognize the restaurant logo on the side, and break out into a smile at his thoughtfulness. Charlie and Renee then turn into a different set of parents—they make us pose for a million pictures, laughing and teasing me the whole time. Well, I guess I would expect it from my mom, but my _dad_ is even smiling light-heartedly as my mom figures out a new pose and he willingly captures it on film.

"Alright, kids," my dad says as he finally places the camera on the table. "We should let you eat your dinner before it gets cold, and we have our own dinner to attend to."

"We'll be back after the movies," my mom adds. "Sue spoke with the nurse taking care of you tonight, Bella, so she knows that Edward is allowed to visit and that your friends might stop by." I roll my eyes at all the hospital rules. If I were one year older, I likely would be across the street at the 'adult' hospital and not limited to having only visitors when one of my parents accompanies them.

After they leave, Edward starts to take the food of the bag and waves me away when I try to help him. He sets up a white tablecloth on my hospital tray table and wheels another one in as well but leaves that bare. Then he brings out two large soup bowls that he must have taken from his house and places one on each table along with silverware, small plates, glasses and a single blush pink rose in a vase. "Sorry," he starts as he gestures to the two tables pushed together, one covered, one not. The tables are roughly the same height but too rickety to share the tablecloth. "I guess I should have brought a table too."

"Edward," I say, finally regaining my thoughts, and gesturing to the bag holding the food. "How did you know?"

"Your dad." He smiles as he starts to take out various Styrofoam containers from not just _any_ Vietnamese restaurant, but my favorite gourmet one that has a mixture of French and Vietnamese cuisine.

"Have you had this type of food before?"

"No," he admits. "But your dad told me all of your favorites…I figure we could share." He sets up his iPod and speakers to play classical music in the background and we eat our lovely dinner as I school him in the fine art of my favorite foods. _Pho_ rare steak noodle soup, lemongrass shrimp, Vietnamese style crepes, and a light chicken curry.

"I thought you promised not to order four entrees," I tease him in between bites.

"I didn't…I think at least one of these is technically an appetizer…besides blame Charlie for that, not me." We laugh and talk as we eat, and I feel the happiest I have felt in a long time. I actually like this better than going to the actual dance because I have Edward all to myself, even though I feel a little bad that I haven't spent much time with my friends lately. Of course I spill the worst thing possible thing on my dress—curry—even though I have a cloth napkin on my lap.

"Crap!" I say and start to scrub the yellow mess into the blue organza.

"I'll see if they have club soda at the nurses station," Edward says and is quickly out the door almost before I finish my next sentence.

"It's okay—I was going to change before we watched the movie anyway."

My night nurse comes in with club soda and helps me out of my dress while Edward waits in the hallway. I tug on my most comfortable pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, then throw on the vintage sweater as an after thought. It's still cold in the room and I want to wear the corsage as long as possible. Edward comes back in and he takes off his tie and untucks his shirt so that we match in casualness.

"So…were you going to wear jeans to the dance?" I ask as we gather up the dishes and trash from our dinner.

"No. A suit. I just didn't think it would be…appropriate here."

"But I wore my dress!" I protest.

"And you're not in it now," he counters. "Besides, I was Alice-approved."

"What about my approval?"

"You don't like my jeans?" he smirks, already knowing the answer. His dark wash jeans fit him perfectly, accentuating _everything_ perfectly, and likely cost more than my dress itself.

"I'm surprised you took the time to get Ali's approval."

"She's the one who hardly had any time—you should have seen how long it took her to get ready today."

I laugh. "Are they stopping by?"

"No." I am briefly disappointed even though I told my other friends not to come by either. "I told Jazz they weren't allowed to interrupt our date," he continues and my disappointment fades.

As Edward digs through the bags for the DVDs, I stand awkwardly looking around the room, trying to decide the best place for us to sit while watching whichever movie we choose. The hospital bed is tilted up into a sitting position so we could use it as a sort of loveseat…but I am uncomfortable with that idea, more so as I picture the look on Charlie's face when they return. The plastic chairs would be okay for a while but not too comfortable. In the end, Edward walks over to the recliner type chair and holds his hand out to me as he sits down. I snuggle in between his legs and settle back, my back resting against his chest comfortably. It is the best way possible to watch _Casablanca_, warm electricity from Edward covering much of my body and small flickers of light from the television in the darkness of the room that hides my traitorous blush.

After the movie ends, I stand up, reluctantly, to stretch and Edward follows me. I glance at my blue dress, hanging off of the IV pole while drying off. "I'm sorry we didn't get to go to the dance," I say quietly. The television is on and the lights are still off, so I can see his face in quick flashes of light. Flashes of beauty. Flashes of Edward.

"It's okay, Bella. We still have Prom."

"Is that your half-ass way of asking me to Prom?" I retort.

"No. Will you go to Prom with me, Bella Swan? Mine and yours?"

He's covering all his bases and it makes me giggle slightly before responding. "Edward, Prom isn't for..." I do a quick calculation in my head. "Six more months!"

"So?"

"Um…I don't go to dances. I can't dance remember?"

"Bella, you were supposed to go to Homecoming with me tonight…you owe me a school dance…Besides, I told you, it's all in the leading." He wraps his arms around me and twirls me once as if to prove his point.

"Fine. I'll go to Prom with you."

"I'm holding you to that promise, Bella." His crooked grin makes an appearance, melting all my resolve. I figure I have six months to think up an excuse, anyway. _Six months_. Edward is asking me on a date _six_ months from now. More than anything—even if it means dressing up in an uncomfortable dress and actually having to dance—more than anything, I want to be able to be a _normal_ teen going to Prom with her…boyfriend? Friend? I am unsure where we stand, but what I do know is that I don't want Edward going to Prom with someone else.

He leans into me, and softly places his lips on mine while still smiling. I'm smiling back as well—I just can't help it. We're supposed to be at Benedict High's transformed school gym, dancing amongst the smell of sweaty gym socks. Instead, beeping machines and the stale clean smell of the hospital surrounds us. We're also casually dressed in jeans instead of our formal attire. Somehow it doesn't matter. The electric current that usually surrounds us hums throughout the room igniting my smile away into passion. I place soft kisses on his lips, and he returns them eagerly. The kisses blend into one long, lingering tingly amalgam of everything we are feeling. All I breathe, all I smell, all I taste is Edward. Sandalwood, vanilla and masculinity.

Of course we are interrupted, much like most of my life at the hospital. This is my life now. There's a brief knock at the door, then a blur of dresses as Rosalie and Vanessa breeze into my room. "Hey, why doesn't _he_ have to wear a mask?" Rosalie complains with a raised eyebrow as Edward and I move slightly farther apart from each other.

"Because then it would be harder for me to kiss him," I respond matter-of-factly before I place one more quick kiss on his lips. Then I giggle, ruining the moment. Rosalie rolls her eyes, but she is smiling underneath her mask—I can tell by the movement of her cheeks. I walk over to flick on the lights, momentarily blinding al of us.

"How was the dance? I can't believe you guys are here! Isn't there an afterparty? Where are the boys?" I ask quickly after I recover. There is an awkward pause as Rosalie and Vanessa look back and forth at each other and Rose's smile drops from her face and is replaced by a rare look of…embarrassment. I look her over quickly and realize that her hair is completely down—very messily cascading over her shoulders instead of the twist she had planned—and her eyes are swollen like she has been crying. In fact, she no longer has make-up on, as if she washed her face before coming to visit me to hide the tears.

"What happened?" I demand quietly, the enthusiasm gone from my voice.

"Bella, not now. We can talk about it tomorrow," Rose answers.

"Then. Why. Are. You. Here?" I am confused. Why would they come to visit me if they weren't here to tell me about the dance? And where are Royce and Jake?

"Um, we wanted to visit you…we told you we'd come by," Vanessa answers. I did know that they said they would stop by to visit me, but I had insisted that they enjoy themselves instead. But, something is definitely wrong if Rose is walking around without any make-up on.

"Where are the boys?" I repeat.

"Jake's in the lobby…he didn't want to crash your date," Vanessa answers, glancing at Edward pointedly. "And he's, uh, looking for some ice…for his hand."

Rosalie glares at her. "Vanessa, tomorrow," she says warningly.

"He got in a fight?" I ask. "Rosalie, just tell me." I walk over to her and stare her down for a moment before deciding to go a different route—I wrap my arms around her. "What _happened_, honey?"

"HepunchedRoyceforhittingme," she says rapidly, looking down at our shoes as I release her. I look to Vanessa for confirmation and she nods her head. Edward nods his head once too, then quietly slips out the door.

"He. Hit. You?" I repeat tersely. "Has this happened before?"

"Yes. No. Can we talk about this tomorrow? When Edward's not here?"

"He's not here right now," I counter.

"Yeah, but he's coming back in…and we haven't even officially met."

"Rosalie Lillian Hale—"

"I promise I'm okay. Vanessa was there. I broke up with the douchebag. We'll talk tomorrow."

After more prodding and pleading, I get nowhere except more reassurances and some tears. While Rosalie steps into the bathroom to wash her face, Vanessa leans in to whisper to me, "I really think she's okay, Bella. She chewed out Royce before _and_ after he hit her, and before I knew it, Jake was punching the shit out of him. She dumped him in front of _everyone_ and then we left…She just may need some time to let it all sink in."

"I just feel so helpless…I didn't know anything was wrong…and now I'm stuck in this_ jail_ unable to do anything." I wave my hands around my room.

"Bells, just work on getting home and getting better. I promise to stalk Rose at her house tomorrow if you can't get through to her." I hug her and Rosalie comes to join the two of us with more promises of 'tomorrow'.

Edward knocks gently on the door before coming in. "I, uh, found someone downstairs, Bella. Is it okay if Jake comes in?" I nod my head, and Jake walks in with a makeshift ice pack tied around his right hand. I introduce Edward to both Rosalie and Vanessa, who are grinning ear to ear beneath their masks, despite the events at the dance.

"So we all get matching masks, huh, Bells?" he jokes. "Edward got me some ice from the nurses station. How are you feel—" he stops mid-sentence, re-calling my hatred of that question.

"I'm fine, Jake," I reply. "You look like you need to be here more than me."

"Nah. The jerk didn't even get one punch in." Jake points to his face—the part that's visible—and laughs, but I can see the sadness in his eyes. No one wants to punch their friend, even if they deserve it. "You girls ready to go? I promised Vanessa's dad I'd get her back before curfew…"

I hug Rosalie and Vanessa before they leave, and wave goodbye to Jake. Edward places his arm around me as we say our good-byes. "Your parents should be back from the movies," he says carefully.

I walk back into the room, the playful mood of our makeshift homecoming dance dissipated. I sit down on the bed and quietly place my face in my hands. Now that my friends are gone, I feel overwhelmed by what they have—and what they _haven't_—told me. I rub my eyes, refusing to make this yet another night of me crying in Edward's arms.

"Bella, what _happened_?" he asks softly, as he sits carefully next to me.

I lift my head to answer him, getting lost once again in the deep seaweed green of his eyes. "I don't know, Edward. I don't know anything anymore."

That night as I listen to the soft snoring of my mom in the foldout recliner next to me, I toss and turn in my bumpy hospital bed. I finally fall asleep while gazing at the silent technicolor images on my muted hospital television. As I sleep I dream of two bright midnight blue butterflies, climbing up the eucalyptus trees of the Monarchs, then disappearing into the lighter blue canopy of the sky above them as they dance and flutter around one another. First one way, then the other, they are intertwined as they twirl, fly and then fade away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Bella's homecoming dress as described here is the one KS wears in _Twilight_ for the prom scenes. I love the vintage sweater that she wears with it...it's just the type of sweater I used to wear in high school. What did your homecoming or prom dress look like? (If you're older, like me-I'm in my 30s, would you still choose that same style?)


	10. Chapter 9: A Sort of New Moon

**Chapter 9**

**A Sort of New Moon**

The day after homecoming drags on a lot more slowly than the previous day. Nothing much is going on at the hospital—which is a _good_ thing, if not frustrating because I have to be here either way—all my labs still look good, my cultures are still not growing anything, and I haven't had any more fevers. It all means something like a 'false alarm' and I will likely get to go home soon. My mom goes home to rest, and my dad accompanies her despite his original plan to spend the day with me. I need to talk to Rosalie and find out what happened and I cannot have that conversation with him in the room.

Unfortunately fate—and Rosalie—has other plans. It is a synchronized dance that I am playing with my cell phone. I call and text Rose repeatedly, only to get her voice mail and no texts back. When I call her house, the phone rings and rings until her mom finally answers and apologizes to me that Rose is unable to talk to me at the moment. She doesn't even relent when I inform her that I am in the hospital.

Edward, on the other hand, calls my hospital room and my cell phone repeatedly as well, but I cannot talk to him. In the bright light of day, all I feel is guilt. Guilt over being so happy with Edward. Guilt over not realizing Rosalie was having such a hard time with Royce, not realizing that she was unhappy. Guilt over being so wrapped up in my leukemia that I don't even know what's going on around me.

Angela stops by my room when she is done with rounds. It is the weekend, and I am sure that Ben is waiting at their apartment for her, but she brings me a grilled chicken and fresh basil sandwich from Ida's across the street and has lunch with me instead. I confide in her the events from my makeshift hospital homecoming dance, and also my multiple layers of guilt.

She listens quietly as I rant and rave, chews her food thoughtfully, and then makes her comments. "Bella, you can't feel guilty for being sick. It's out of your control. My sister felt that way too, but never once did I blame her when my parents were here at the hospital instead of my violin recitals, or track meets, or even my high school graduation.

"You know what June's death—really her _life_—taught me?" she asks.

"What? That life is too short?" I answer her rhetorical question.

"Well, yes, but that's not exactly what I'm getting at. What I mean is…for June's life to have meant _anything_—she taught me to _appreciate_ the world around me, my parents, Ben. Don't waste your time feeling bad about not being there for Rosalie…instead be there for her now. Don't feel bad about your…feelings for Edward, just be happy that he is here for you. June taught me just how much _love_ there is around us, she taught me about _unconditional_ love, love in the face of possible loss. I don't want you to have any regrets in your life, Bella."

I nod my head, understanding and not understanding her words. At face value, they make sense. As they apply to me, I'm not so sure. After Angela leaves, I listen to music, while staring at the shapes and patterns on the hospital ceiling tiles. Of course, my usual form of relaxation makes me think of Edward, and him lying down next to me a few weeks ago, doing the exact same thing. I am still uncertain what to say to him so I take out the journal he gave me for my birthday and start doodling the patterns I see onto the pages. Pretty soon the doodles make way into words that turn into paragraphs and lines of poetry and imagery all describing the confusion, frustration, and fear that I am feeling about Edward Cullen.

-0-

_A new moon is the starting over_

_Is darkness, fear, despair_

_The passing of time_

_Is it darkest before the dawn?_

_I trace the midnight silhouettes of the clouds_

_Fluffy on my ceilings_

_of us._

-0-

After the last bell rings, I trail slowly after the crowd towards the parking lot, looking for Rosalie's car. Before I can spot it, I see a lone figure leaning up against the front of a silver Volvo. Edward is looking down at the ground, kicking at a pebble with his shoe, his bronze locks falling gently over his face. His shoulders are slumped and his hands are in his pockets. His sadness seeps into me and I feel guilty for the forlornness of his figure. He looks up at me in that moment and I see a flicker of hope in his eyes. I cannot avoid him any longer.

As I walk over to him, he says lowly, "Did you lose your phone, Bella?" I shake my head in answer. "Are you avoiding me then?"

"No, Edward—"

"Well, what am I supposed to think when my girlfriend isn't answering my phone calls?" he interrupts me as he stops leaning against his car to step closer to me. His voice only has a hint of anger and isn't raised—I'm sure he doesn't want to make a scene in the parking lot of my school.

"I'm not your girlfriend, Edward," I say softly. It's not meant in a mean way—I just didn't think of myself that way, even with all the feelings I have for him. I don't feel like he is mine.

He sighs in frustration. "Okay…so maybe we're not official…but you know what I'm trying to say," he challenges. "Why haven't you returned my calls?"

"I'm sorry…I've been busy…Rosalie…" I falter. How can I explain it to him? I went home a few days after our impromptu Homecoming at the hospital and I've been trying to catch up on school work ever since. Along with spending as much time with Rosalie as possible, trying to figure out what happened with her and Royce. What kind of friend am I that I didn't notice how unhappy she was? That I didn't know her boyfriend was treating her like shit?

"Is she okay?" he asks, genuinely concerned.

"I think so. It's been hard getting her to talk." I shrug my shoulders.

"So you couldn't just call me back to tell me that?" he presses.

"I'm sorry." I don't know what else to say. I don't want to hurt him anymore, but wouldn't he be more hurt down the line when I _still_ can't deal with all of the changes in my life? He should be able to have a normal life. Without me.

"You know I wouldn't treat you like that, Bella. Is that what you're worried about? How Rosalie's boyfriend treated her?" He places his hands on my arms and strokes them gently.

"I know you wouldn't do that, Edward. You're too good for that." _You're too good for me._

He smiles just slightly—the first smile I have seen from him today. "Well, then, can I be your boyfriend?"

His green eyes are piercing into mine and I can't look at him anymore. I am ashamed of what I am about to say. "I'm sorry, Edward…I don't want you to be my boyfriend."

His head drops at my answer. I can't say 'sorry' enough. But, I cannot lie to him either—what I've said is both true and untrue. I don't want him to be my boyfriend, to be tied down to me. When he finally talks his voice is hoarse and controlled. "You…don't…want…me?" he says slowly, trying out the words on his tongue, switching around what I have just said to him.

I start to nod, but again I cannot lie to him. "I would never say that…" I finally reply.

"But you don't want me to be your boyfriend? Bella, you're not making sense."

I search around the parking lot for Rosalie—she is making her way down the steps towards us. "Edward, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I have to go to my doctor's now. Can we talk later?"

"Why don't I take you to your appointment? Then we can finish this conversation," he says quickly, frustration obvious in his intonation.

"Um, Rose is taking me and I really want to be able to talk to her…"

He nods his answer, his lips pressed together tightly. Rosalie has caught up to where we are now and she waves to Edward, quickly assessing the situation. I follow her to her car and manage to only glance back at him once. His position is the same as the one I've found him in initially—a silhouette of sadness leaning against the bright silver of his car. This is how I've broken his heart, and my own.

-0-

_The cancer is slowly eating my body._

_His broken heart is eating my soul._

_I have something for the cancer:_

_Liquid cool medicine kills the cancer cells_

_Seeping into my veins, crashing like the rush of the surf._

_My guilt kills the growing feelings in my heart_

_But the fire still burns, consuming me._

_Bright orange flames rising quickly into an intense green shade_

_Then fading._

-0-

"Alright, spill," Rosalie orders as soon as we're in her car.

"I could say the same to you," I counter. She glances back at me, pursing her lips, debating my answer. I stare at her defiantly as I notice the bruise on her face has morphed into a light yellow-green color, just barely visible under her make-up. She has light purple bags under her bloodshot eyes. "Rose, it's been _four_ days…"

"Bella, you have no idea what you are asking," she replies.

"You're right. I have no idea because I've been so wrapped up in my own life. God, you must hate me." I throw up my arms in frustration. She finally starts the engine after glancing at the clock.

"You're going to be late," she says.

"I don't care."

"That's not what you were just saying to your boyfriend…"

"Edward is _not_ my boyfriend, Rosalie. In fact, he just asked me and I said no."

"Bella," she admonishes and slams on the brakes. I start to think that maybe we shouldn't be having this conversation in the car. "Why would you do that?"

"Why won't you tell me about Royce?" I counter, and then add. "Go slower or we'll end up in the ER instead of at the clinic."

In the end, we both end up spilling our secrets. I tell her about my conversation with Edward first and my reasons for avoiding him since it is a less painful topic. Also, I honestly want her opinion. We are almost to the clinic by the time I am done, so she starts her story and ends up staying throughout my infusion. My mom joins us, and even though Rosalie was initially reluctant to tell me what happened, she is remarkably relieved to tell her story to both of us.

"I hadn't been happy with Royce for a while now," she says, and my mom and I both nod our heads in understanding. "But it took me a long time to realize that…everyone would tell us how perfect we were for each other. And our parents expected us to get married someday, demanded it almost."

At this, I open my mouth to say something, but my mom shakes her head at me. Much as I love Rose, I also know how hard her parents can be on her. How they would preen over how beautiful she is, but never once comment on her biting wit, her overprotective kindness or amazing mechanic skills. How they were ecstatic when Royce and she started dating because it raised their name in society. How they likely didn't take lightly to her dumping him unceremoniously last weekend.

"I think just seeing you these past few weeks, Bella, made me realize how much I was giving up by staying with him. I don't mean just hearing about you and Edward," she pauses, and I understand that she is not jealous even though her tone hints towards wistfulness. "I see how happy he makes you—I know you don't want to hear that right now after what you just told him, but it's true." My mom glances at me, and I mouth "later" to hear, so she reaches over to squeeze Rosalie's hand to encourage her to continue.

"And I have been so scared of losing you, Bella. Not to Edward, but to your, um, cancer," she falters.

"You're not losing me to either," I say softly.

She smiles and continues. "I know. But it made me wonder…what if it was me? Would Royce stay with me? He'd already been cheating on me for months…I just couldn't admit it to myself." Rose continues with the clues on how she figured out what was going on, and how he would belittle her and tell her that no one else would want her, how he would tell her that she was ugly and stupid. I am shocked at her words—that my strong and tenacious friend would believe anything that the jerk said to her. Her voice does not waver throughout; she sounds decidedly matter-of-fact about the whole situation, almost as if it happened to someone else.

"You know why we fought at the dance? He didn't want me to go to the hospital to visit you…then I caught him making out with another girl on the dance floor. I don't even know who she is, but when I told him I was leaving without him and that we were over, he slapped me." My mom gasps at her admission, and glances at me—a look of disbelief that I had not told her that part myself. "Don't worry, Renee—he's never hit me before, and honestly I was just about to punch him myself when Jake beat me to it." She smiles briefly, satisfied with the end result.

"It was far worse when I got home and told my parents that I had broken up with Royce…to say they were furious and disappointed would be an understatement."

"I can talk to your mom, Rosalie," my mom interjects. "Did you tell her _everything_?"

Rose shakes her head sadly. "It doesn't matter…they still blame me. Like I must have done something wrong that he would be interested in someone else. I think my mom is taking it hard because she feels like they can't be friends with his parents now. Besides, Vanessa's mom already gave her a piece of her mind when they came over on Sunday." She smiles slightly at this revelation, and I smile back—I should have known that Vanessa wouldn't let me down when she said she would stalk Rosalie for me while I was at the hospital. No wonder Rose didn't answer her phone. While my infusion finishes up at the clinic, my mom and I continue to talk through the details with Rosalie and make plans to meet with her mom despite Rose's initial refusal. As we talk, Renee impresses me with her empathy. Much as I like to say I am the one who takes care of my mom, she at least has always genuinely loved me and my friends unconditionally.

On the drive home, Renee muses over what is going on with Rosalie, then abruptly changes topics to ask me why she is fielding so many calls from Edward. Every time I think she is in the dark, she has been there all along. She always says she can read me like an open book, so I figure I might as well tell her everything. Surprisingly, she does not criticize me for my decisions, she simply states her opinion, then concludes that I have to do things my own way.

-0-

On Saturday, Alice drags me to the spa with her to get ready for _her_ school's homecoming dance. I tried protesting all week long, and finally get convinced when she insists that she missed out on the previous weekend with me, and that she is not to be included in the Edward embargo. I scoff at her, insisting that there is no such embargo, treaty, or anything otherwise out of the ordinary, but one look from her shuts me up.

"All right, are you going to tell me what's going on now, Swan?" she asks as we are lying on side-by-side tables in a double massage room. We are both lying on our backs, and I keep my eyes closed so that I am less embarrassed about being naked—even though we have sheets covering us.

"I thought this massage is supposed to be relaxing," I retort. Really she is lucky that she is able to convince me to do _anything_ at the spa. The massage is a compromise since I agree that I am exhausted, although that is nothing new since I have been sick.

"Come on, Bella, or I'll make you get your hair done too," she threatens.

I open my eyes and raise my eyebrow at her. "Ali, I have no hair… it's falling out remember? The less I do to it, the better."

"Okay," she shrugs, unfazed. "Then I'll make you get a facial…"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, Bella!" She is so riled up that she starts to sit up and her massage therapist gently pushes her back down. "One minute my brother is uncharacteristically humming around the house, the next he is back to being his usual brooding self."

"Did he ask you to talk to me?" I ask, tentatively.

"No." Alice pauses to consider my answer. "So there _is _something going on…"

"No, um, not really. I just decided that I'd rather we were just friends, that's all." I try to say this nonchalantly, hoping that I would incur fewer questions, but my voice cracks in the middle of my sentence, betraying me.

"Bella, why?"

"It's complicated, Ali."

"But—"

"It's between me and your brother." I say with finality. "Now can I enjoy my massage?" Alice manages to keep quiet for the rest of the massage and I almost fall asleep with the smoothness of the movements. I say _almost_ because even her silence speaks volumes, and even with the soothing music piping in the background, my mind is going a mile a minute, trying to figure out for myself what exactly is going on between Edward and me.

After we are done at the spa, Alice begs me to stop by her house so she can show off her dress. "Come on," she says. "Esme has been asking when you're going to come by again."

"Another time, Ali," I reply, chewing on my lower lip.

"But my dress! You haven't seen it yet…an Alice Cullen original!"

"Um…"

"You can help me do my make-up and hair," she adds, even though we both know I would be no help in that department, whatsoever. "And Jasper is coming by early for pictures since we didn't get a chance to take many last weekend…You haven't seen him in a while either.

"Edward won't be there," she concludes quietly, sensing where my reluctance is coming from.

I follow her yellow convertible Mustang down PCH and into the winding streets of her neighborhood. In the soft light of day, their house looks even more enchanting than I remembered it. As I walk up the pathway to the front door—while Alice drives down the alleyway to park in the garage—I glance at the French doors to my right with the sleek ebony piano peeking out in snatches. Edward's piano, I presume, as he has not told me that anyone else in his family plays.

Just as I am about to ring the doorbell, the door suddenly opens, and Edward and I gasp simultaneously. My mouth gapes open slightly as I take in the sight in front of me. Edward is dressed in a black suit complete with a black button down shirt and a tie the exact same shade as his eyes. He runs his hand through his messy hair briefly and whispers my name.

"Um, hi Edward," I say when my thought processes return. "Ali was going to show me her dress?"

"Of course," he responds, and steps aside slightly to let me in. "Please come in." I continue to stand awkwardly next to him, now in the entryway of his house.

"You look…nice," I say, glancing up and down quickly again. Understatement of the year.

"Thanks…uh, homecoming," he gestures at himself in explanation, then looks me directly in the eyes. "Bella, can we talk?"

"I don't want you to be late for your date, Edward," I say softly, inexplicably sad that I am pushing him away, yet simultaneously still wishing that _I_ was his date tonight.

He glances at his watch. "I have to pick up some of my friends, and am running a bit late," he admits. "Can I call you tomorrow?" I nod my head, and he pauses for a moment before leaning over to kiss my forehead briefly before heading out the door.

Alice comes waltzing over as he shuts the door, apologizing for keeping me waiting and not meaning it. It has only been moments, but she has somehow managed to change into her dress and fix her hair. The light pink color with hints of brown watercolor images complements Alice's skin tone, with soft sheer fabric cascading down the skirt in an A-line flare in multiple layers. She successfully created an ethereal look that is both vintage fifties in style, but also somewhat fairy like. "Sorry, Bella, I thought he would have left already…I just need to finish my make-up before Jazz gets here." She grabs my hand and I follow her up the stairs, barely able to make any comments about her dress as my mind drifts back to Edward in his suit.

When I get home, I take out one of the homecoming pictures that my mom had developed. I am looking at the camera, eyes half closed and giggling, while Edward has one arm wrapped around my waist. Instead of facing the camera, he is looking intently at me, a look of awe on his face. I tuck the picture into the middle of the pages of my journal, a reminder of a perfect moment.

-0-

_Apples. _

_The scent of the air after the rain. _

_The forest of my childhood home._

_The grass in the springtime being mowed._

_The malachite of copper._

_A certain type of seaweed._

_And the color of Edward's eyes._

-0-

Jake and I find seats on the bottom row of bleachers slightly farther down from the players. We don't want to distract their focus from the game but we want to be close enough to the action to see everything. Covenant's gym only has about ten rows of bleachers on one side of the gym. The side facing us is the theater stage—a small one, not for big productions, just school assemblies.

"I've never seen you in your school uniform, Bells," Jake teases me.

"I usually don't wear it outside of school," I reply. "Would you?"

"Sure, sure. Don't you girls know how you look in them? I have to beg Nessie not to change out of it."

I roll my eyes—Jake is such a typical teen boy. I pause for a moment and raise one eyebrow at the nickname Jake has given my friend. "Nessie?"

"What?" he says, shrugging his shoulders. "_She_ likes it."

"It's cute," I say finally, smiling widely at how well Vanessa and Jake are getting along.

"So is this part of your uniform too?" Jake points to the silk pink and white scarf that I have covering my hair, the one that Angela gave to me on my first admission. I shake my head and look away, not wanting to answer him.

"I've never been inside this gym before either," Jake changes the subject as we wait for the players to be announced.

"It's just a few years old," I admit. "Remember the diocese wouldn't pay for it? We all had to fundraise for it." Jacob snorts at the ridiculousness of the situation. Apparently the higher ups in the archdiocese decided that the girls at Covenant didn't _need_ a gymnasium, even though we have been borrowing other local school's gyms to practice in. _We_ meaning the athletes of my school, not clumsy Bella Swan. "Never mind the fact that you guys have a gym, a separate theater _and_ a pool."

"Well, Bells, you know how important water polo is at Benedict…" I smack his arm but we both laugh. Jake's been on the varsity water polo team since he was a freshman.

I hear a throat being cleared to catch our attention, and only then do I notice that Rosalie has sidled up next to us and she isn't alone. She and Edward are standing to the side of me. Edward looks much taller than I remembered—likely because I'm sitting down—and he glances back and forth between Jacob and me and scowls.

"Bella, I found Edward waiting for you in the parking lot so I brought him in…" Rosalie starts. She has changed out of her uniform, and it reminds me of her appointment.

"Uh, thanks, Rose. Aren't you late for meeting your mom?"

"Yeah. I have to help her with that charity thing," she says apologetically. "Sorry," she mouths at my discomfort as she walks away. I'm certain she will be calling me later. She has nothing to really apologize for—I wouldn't want her to leave Edward just sitting in the parking lot.

"Hi Edward, what are you doing here?" I say, after Rose has left.

"Bella, can I talk to you for a moment outside?" he says tersely. He is still standing in front of us, and they are just starting to announce the players.

"Um, I'm watching the game, Edward." I'm not sure if I want to talk to him when he looks so angry. I feel like I've already said everything I wanted to say to him. Truthfully, I'm afraid I won't be strong enough to stick to my decision, especially considering how gorgeous he is. It's much easier to talk to him on the phone since I can't get lost in the mesmerizing intensity of his eyes.

Jake chooses that moment to stand up and offer his hand to Edward. "Hi Edward. Good to see you again, man. Are you here to watch my girlfriend, Vanessa, kick ass on the b-ball court? Come join us." Jake says smoothly, while gesturing over to the space on the bleachers next to me.

Edward's shoulders relax immediately at the mention of Vanessa and he drops down to sit next to me. "Thanks," he says sheepishly, then turns to me. "Can we at least talk later?" I nod my head. I'm still amazed at Jacob's ability to read a situation so well, and then diffuse it. Of course Edward would see me with Jacob and assume that I've been playing the friend card because I'm interested in someone else. That's just his jealous nature.

We watch the game as Vanessa and the rest of the Covenant Cardinals do kick ass on the court. As the game goes on and both Jake and I cheer Vanessa on, Edward relaxes more and more. In fact, he and Jake get along pretty well—better than I would have thought possible. At some point during the game, Mr. Ash—my English teacher and also an assistant coach—glances over at me sandwiched between these two huge and handsome guys. He gives me a thumbs up, which I know does not indicate approval. When I smile at him reassuringly, he smiles genuinely back.

"What's that about?" Edward leans over to ask quietly in my ear.

"He's checking to make sure I'm okay," I reply honestly, laughing a little at my teacher worrying about either Jake or Edward. "Mr. Ash is overprotective of all of the students."

"Hmmm," Edward muses, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's not like that!" I add, admonishing him. "He's happily married…he's like a big brother. At prom, he's been known to toss tee-shirts to students to cover up if their dresses are too…um…revealing."

At the end of the game, Jake wanders over to chat with Vanessa's younger siblings and mom who came to watch the game and Edward leads me outside the gym. His hand is wrapped around mine and he pulls me insistently but not forcefully along with him. When we are alone, he drops my hand and then looks into my eyes as if he's searching for something. "You've been avoiding me since Homecoming," he says finally, and I notice the hurt look in his intense eyes.

"Homecoming? You mean yours or mine?" My self-preservation wins out—I decide to play dumb.

"Yours," Edward replies, his voice low and tense.

"You mean, since my last hospitalization—"

"You know what I mean," he interrupts me. His relaxed manner during the game has completely evaporated and I know it's my fault. Yet, no matter what I do or don't do…I am always to blame. He shouldn't have to visit me in the hospital instead of going to a dance. He was able to go to _his_ Homecoming dance at least. He should be able to lead a normal life—finish up his senior year and go to college, have a girlfriend who isn't in and out of the hospital. He doesn't need to add the rollercoaster that is my life to everything that goes along with his. He _deserves_ better.

"Edward," I say his name slowly and quietly. Reverently. And I force myself to finally look him in the eyes. "I just can't deal with all of this right now."

"Are you seeing someone else?" His voice drops to a whisper, as if he's afraid to ask the question. His hand twitches—almost involuntarily—then he lifts it to stroke the side of my face lightly.

"No." I pause, still feeling the current from his touch. I have only ever been honest with Edward and now I seem to be giving him half answers. I take a breath, then continue, "I've never felt this way about someone else, the way I feel about you."

"Then what is it?" he asks, brows furrowing in anguish.

"Edward…I'm dying." I hesitate, slightly, trying to keep my tears at bay and also wanting to give a chance for the words to sink in. "I can't have you go through all of this too…"

"You're not dying, Bella," he says firmly.

"I am. I have leukemia. I'm dying, Edward." It's the first time I have admitted this particular fear to anyone, including myself. Somehow saying the words out loud makes it seem more real. I have worried about other things, mostly the _inconvenience_ of my leukemia—the hospitalizations, the re-arrangement of my class schedule, the side effects of chemo, the constant worry of my parents over me, the inevitably mounting medical bills. But not about dying…I have not worried about my mortality at all. I feel the warm wetness on my cheeks before I can taste the saltiness. Immediately, Edward pulls me into his arms. Great. I'm crying in his arms, once again. I can't deny myself the safety I feel wrapped up in Edward, however, and I find myself snuggling further into his chest.

"But you're not dying…you're getting chemo…Dr. Weber says everything is going well. Don't give up on yourself…that's when you give in to the cancer." I nod my head imperceptibly, then pull back slightly to look at Edward. There's nothing but conviction in his eyes. I pull back further as I hear a throat clearing behind me.

"Everything okay out here, Miss Swan?" Mr. Ash's usual light and joking tone is stern. I turn to look at him and wipe my tears away quickly.

"I'm fine, Mr. Ash," I say as reassuringly as possible. Discretely I give him a thumbs up sign, letting him know that Edward isn't bothering me. He nods and starts to walk away. "Um, Mr. Ash? I'd like you to meet Edward Cullen. Edward, this is my favorite English teacher, Mr. Ash." Mr. Ash takes three quick strides over to meet Edward and they shake hands briefly. After a moment, Mr. Ash excuses himself but not before raising an eyebrow at me with a smirk. I know he's going to give me shit about this later; I just hope he doesn't tease me in front of the whole class.

Edward laughs as he catches the smirk. "I can see how he's like a big brother. An annoying one. He reminds me of Emmett."

"Emmett likes to make sure none of the girls are giving you trouble?" I tease.

"More Alice than me…Just wait 'til he hears about Jasper. Anyway…before we were interrupted, love?"

I sigh—I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with not finishing this conversation. "Okay, I'm not dying…but I still can't deal with…all this…and having a boyfriend at the same time." I am _not_ dying; I have to believe this in order to get through all the hell that is chemotherapy.

"But you're not dating anyone else?" He reaches out to hold one of my hands in his. He envelops it gently then swings both of our hands slightly back and forth between us.

"No. I…I can't be dating right now…can we still be friends?" I look up at Edward, wanting so badly to be able to read his mind. Our eyes interlock for a second then he drops his gaze quickly.

"Friends…" The single word is infused with uncertainty and sadness.

"I don't want to lose you," I add immediately.

"Friends…okay. But, Bella, friends don't avoid each other and they call each other back…if we're friends, then we should be able to hang out…" He finally looks up again at me and I'm drowning in the seaweed green, begging for him to understand. If I were a stronger person, maybe I would just cut him out of my life completely. I tried to create some distance by not answering his calls and texts. But, I am too selfish to let him go.

"Okay, I promise not to avoid you anymore…"

"Then I'm willing to be friends. For now. But, you have to know that I'm going to wait for you, Bella. As long as it takes. You're worth it." He pulls me tightly into his arms and rests his cheek on the top of my head before shifting to kiss my forehead. I quickly place a kiss on his chest as well.

I want to tell him not to wait for me. I want to tell him that it's okay if he wants to date someone else. Instead I say the only thing I can say with sincerity, "Thank you, Edward."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Obviously some text is borrowed from SM's _New Moon_. Much as I enjoyed _Twilight_, I thought SM improved her writing vastly in _New Moon_ and it is my favorite book of the series. Which one is your fave?


	11. Chapter 10: Sweet Ginger

**Chapter 10**

**Sweet Ginger**

The child life room on the third floor of the hospital is decorated in pink. Lots of it. Tammy and her family have transformed the arts and crafts room into a party room, complete with streamers, balloons, and several banners. There are even enormous Mylar balloons with every Disney princess on them surrounding all of the windows and walls. The amount of space that the decorations take up is almost equal to the number of people already in the room. Almost. I laugh quietly to myself as the sounds of Maddie's squealing interrupts me as I am placing paper plates on a long table covered in a plastic tablecloth. "You're here, you made it, Edward!" she screams out as her feet stomp out towards the doorway. She is wearing a Belle princess costume and matching plastic shoes, which echo loudly despite the number of people in the room. Her tiara and wig have been tossed aside after they were deemed too itchy, and I can see the light peach fuzz starting to grow on her scalp.

Edward—actually wearing a mask like the rest of us—enters the room while running one hand through his hair. He is carrying a decidedly girlie looking bright pink gift bag in his other hand. "Of course I'm here, little one," he says as he drops the present and picks her up.

Maddie places her hands on each of Edward's masked covered cheeks and looks seriously into his eyes. "I'm not 'little', Edward. I'm five years old now."

"I know you are, squirt, that's what we're celebrating, isn't it?" He gently places her back down on the ground. I am frozen to my spot. What is he doing here? "I'm going to add this to your mountain of presents over there," he adds, as he motions over to the gift table.

"What did you get me?"

"It's a surprise, squirt," he says, laughing. Maddie runs to greet another newcomer and I continue to stare at Edward as he places the gift bag with her other presents. His eyes scan the room, and he breaks out into a smile when he sees me across the room.

"Hey, friend," he says slowly. "What are you doing here?" Despite the fact that we are just friends at _my_ insistence, my heart drops a little at his new pet name for me. I almost tell him that I like the previous one better.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," I say instead. "I didn't know that you know Maddie too."

"Yeah, well, I met Maddie a long time ago—we were both here at the same time." He gestures around at the room, indicating the hospital in general.

"Like us," I whisper. With my mask on, I am pretty sure that he did not hear me, so I nod my head in acknowledgment. Edward leaves me so I can finish setting the table for cake and snacks as he goes to greet Tammy and her husband, Joel. My mom is sitting near them, snuggling with Maddie's baby sister, Sydney, and her face lights up even more as Edward walks towards them. She throws knowing looks my way as they continue to chat, which worries me somewhat except I know that as much as she would like Edward and I to be more than friends, she wouldn't go as far as to interfere directly.

"He's cute," a lowered voice next to me says. I look up and see a girl I've met once in clinic when I was with Maddie. She is several years younger than me and she giggles as I look up at her. Her hair color is a lighter brown than mine and I know that she isn't wearing a wig. I remember her telling me that she was in remission, but that Maddie and she have been in and out of the hospital together.

"Yes. Do you know him?" I ask, curious, even though clearly she is too young for him, and she is simply making small talk with me.

"No," she answers, and I am surprised for once that there is someone Edward doesn't know. "He's your boyfriend, right?"

I shrug my shoulders at the increasingly common question. The non-answer is easier than getting into the complicated one. My nonchalance causes her to giggle again and I am grateful for her lack of nosiness.

There are other patients and parents who I recognize, all of us gathering at this impromptu birthday party for Maddie. The parents gather all together in groups, discussing the latest research or treatment that they have read about. Everyone talks comfortably here, and I notice that even my mom doesn't have the stiff demeanor that she has around her friends these days. Amongst the parents here, no one judges for sudden crying or the bags underneath your eyes.

"Did you have a BMT?" I ask the tweener next to me, the one admiring Edward.

"No, I didn't have to." I ponder her answer as I think about what Maddie is about to go through. She has been admitted to the hospital in preparation for her bone marrow transplant, and her sister is scheduled for 'harvesting' later this week. Then Maddie will get her donated bone marrow, and will likely be in the hospital for the next month or two. As much as I am getting used to the hospital, I cannot imagine living here for months.

Edward makes his way back towards me and my giggling friend gets up to talk to some of the other kids here. We help some of the smaller kids with the party games, and pass out the prizes. He doesn't leave my side, and every time I glance up to check and see how my mom is doing, she smiles at me no matter who she is talking to. Clearly she is watching the two of us carefully.

Maddie runs up to me and grabs both my hand and Edward's before dragging us across the room. "Bella," she says. "You need to help me and Edward with the piñata!" I look over to her dad, who is standing next to a large Ariel piñata. Much to my relief, we don't take a baseball bat or stick to the mermaid princess, thus horrifying all the little ones.

"How does it work?" Maddie turns to Edward while jumping up and down.

"You pull these strings, squirt," he says, laughing at her enthusiasm. She and the other kids take turns until all the candy and toys come pouring out of the bottom of the piñata. There is a mad dash for the toys, and Edward reaches in amongst them, grabs a prize and sits back next to me. I try to see what it is, but he holds it in his fist tightly.

"So, you go to kids' birthday parties often?" I ask him, grinning.

"No…but I promised Maddie and Tammy I'd be here. I actually was just going to stop by for a few minutes, but since you're here, friend…" He pauses as my smile drops momentarily. Clearly I don't know what I want anymore, but I'll take his friendship. This is what I have asked for, after all. I force my smile back, but it feels just like that—forced.

"This is for you, my Bella," he smiles back and reveals a plastic princess ring in his palm. "It's Belle, but I figured it's close enough." My smile is real now as I glance at the princess in the yellow dress on the oversize ring. He places it on my ring finger in jest.

"Thanks, _friend_," I say back, feeling like teasing him back this time.

He contemplates my answer, and then takes a deep breath. "So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving this week? Do you want to come over? My brother will be home from Cal."

"Um, I can't. My parents and I usually have an early lunch/brunch while we watch the parade on t.v., then we head over to one of the shelters…it's sort of a family tradition." I stop myself from biting my lip as I answer him. It's so sweet that he wants me to meet his brother, the only person in his family who I haven't met yet. But, I also know that I wouldn't trade our annual tradition for anything…although my mom hasn't mentioned it this year and I wonder for a moment if she's worried that I'd be too sick to go to the shelter and help serve dinner.

"How about the rest of the weekend?" he presses.

I know that he is testing me. Since our conversation outside my school gym, I have kept to my word and have been answering his phone calls. However, I have managed to avoid hanging out with him—until today—and I have not called him on my own. I am torn between what I feel is best for him, and what I would honestly like to happen.

"Well, your sister is dragging me out for Black Friday, so maybe we can hang out after?"

"Sure, can you stay for dinner too? With my family, I mean?" he responds. My mom interrupts our conversation by tapping me on the shoulder so I just nod my agreement.

"Bells, I think I'm going to head out now. Maybe Edward could give you a ride home if you want to stay longer?" She smiles hopefully over at Edward, after placing him in a position with no other choices. Maybe I underestimated her.

"I can take her home, Renee," Edward answers immediately.

Shortly thereafter, we sing happy birthday to Maddie, who sits very seriously in front of her cake before blowing out all five candles in one breath. Tammy had an Ariel shaped cake, along with a sand scene made completely out of cupcakes. "What did you wish for, Maddie cakes?" someone calls out.

"I'm not supposed to tell," she says solemnly, before breaking out in a wide smile and continuing. "But I wish to go home soon." I stare intently at the ground at her answer…she has just started the preparative part of her BMT and she has a long way to go. I can feel Edward stiffen next to me, then he relaxes as he squeezes my arm gently. "I'm going to get us some cupcakes."

He returns with just one and hands it to me. "I'm not sharing, Cullen," I say as I bite into the buttercream frosting.

He leans over and sticks one finger in the frosting and licks it off. "It's okay, friend, I just want a taste." I roll my eyes at his actions and his persistent new nickname for me.

When most of the people start to leave, we say our goodbyes to Maddie's family. Tammy leans over to whisper in my ear as she balances baby Sydney on her other shoulder, "I didn't know he was the same Edward," she says. "You two are a great match." Her eyes are sparkling as she backs off.

"I'll come by to visit after my appointment this week," I promise.

Edward waves to the security guard, Seth, as we leave the lobby. "Bella, are you in a hurry?" he asks. "Do you have a lot of homework to catch up on? Or do you have time for coffee?"

"Sure." I shrug my shoulders in agreement, a little perplexed as to why we would get more to eat after leaving a birthday party.

"Great…there's something I want to show you, friend." He lightly takes my hand in his, a contradiction of his words, and he leads me towards the adult hospital next door. His hand is warm in mine, his long fingers deliciously tingling against my own clammy ones. However, even my embarrassment at my sweating will not allow me to remove his hand from mine.

The sun is just warm enough for the cool November breeze. We walk towards a walkway between a parking garage and the adult hospital, where there is an outdoor coffee stand in one corner.

"Small coffee and…" Edward uses our intertwined hands to nudge me as he looks to me for my order.

"Vanilla Latte." Despite all the sugar I have eaten today, I cannot resist my favorite coffee drink.

Edward pays for our drinks, completely disregarding my protests. "So who's the new girl, Edward?" the barista asks as he makes my drink. He's an older guy, maybe in his twenties, with several plain ink tattoos visible on his forearms. Is there anyone who doesn't know Edward?

"Um, this is my friend, Bella," Edward says awkwardly as he places a lid on his coffee. I notice that he drinks it plain—no sugar, no cream, no vanilla shot.

"I hope you're not sneaking out again?" the barista asks.

"No," Edward chuckles. "I learned my lesson the last time. Bella and I were just visiting a friend here." The barista hands me my drink with a friendly wink, and waves away Edward.

I follow Edward's lead again as he presses his free hand gently against the small of my back, guiding me along the walkway. Next to the garage and coffee stand is a huge expanse of grass and I can see a gazebo along the far end. We stop several feet short of the gazebo, and it is only then that I notice the rose garden pathway next to the hospital. It is small in size, but colorful among the browning fall leaves of the trees. We walk on the loose pebble trail and find a small bench in the corner. From our vantage point, we can see the tattooed barista working, the empty white gazebo, and multiple hues of pink, yellow and red roses.

"It's beautiful," I say as we quietly sip our drinks. The crisp California air mingles with the soft scent of the roses. I wonder briefly why Edward would sneak out of the hospital, and how odd it is that he knows so many people at the hospital, and that they recognize him so readily. We sit in silence for several minutes before my worry gets to me. Maybe it's the vast amount of sugar I have consumed, but somehow my words end up a jumbled rush.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"How do you know so many people here? How many surgeries have you had? Were you here a long time? Are you sick? Please don't tell me that you're sick…you told me when we met that you don't have cancer." I pause in my rant to take a deep breath and then admit to him what I'm really asking. "Edward, I don't think I can bear to lose you…don't tell me that you're dying."

His eyes are filled with an emotion I can't interpret. I don't really think that he has cancer, but suddenly seeing all the other sick kids at Maddie's party makes me wonder how Edward fits in here at the hospital. His eyebrows are furrowed and he seems to be warring with himself over something. "That's a lot of questions, Bella," he says finally. "I don't have cancer. I'm not dying."

I lean over to place my arm around him, and it hangs awkwardly around him since he is taller than I am. Nevertheless, the magnetic energy flows through where I am touching him, and he slouches slightly on the bench so that I will be more comfortable. I set down my coffee cup on my other side as he closes his eyes briefly then starts to speak again. "I _have_ been admitted to the hospital a lot," he confesses. "It's how I met Jasper and some of the other patients here. And you know that I've had a bunch of surgeries for my knees…well, sometimes I've stayed longer because it takes me longer to recover…"

He looks back up at me, and I lean closer to him, if that's possible. "I'm glad you're not dying, Edward," I say softly. "I don't need to hear anymore." He opens his mouth to respond, and his eyes are bouncing back and forth, searching my own, then he nods his head once and closes his mouth.

"And Edward?" I ask because I am so pleased that he is not dying that I decide to be brave.

"Yes?"

"Can you please stop calling me 'friend'?" I say quickly before I lose my nerve. He smirks at me—seemingly trying not to laugh at my request—then nods his head again.

-0-

Rosalie and Alice get along even better than I would have thought, considering their personalities are so opposing. Apparently their mutual harassment of my wardrobe bonds them, and we spend most of the early hours of Black Friday looking for good deals for me, despite my protests that I wear a uniform five days of the week.

After shopping, Alice and I part ways with Rosalie and head back to her house. Since we have several hours before dinner with her family—and Edward—I decide to take a nap after the marathon shopping expedition. The house is quiet and empty when we arrive. Alice graciously offers me her room, while she leaves to hang out elsewhere. I am disappointed that Edward is not home even though I am so exhausted that I cannot keep my eyes open.

Sometime in the middle of my dreamless sleep, I start awake to the sound of his voice. I groggily look around me and realize that I am still alone, lying in the middle of Alice's ridiculously large bed, covered in the softest Afghan imaginable. I lift my head slightly, wondering if I must have been just dreaming of Edward's velvet voice when I realize that the voices are coming from just outside the bedroom door.

"Ali, I was just checking on her."

"There's nothing to check on. She's sleeping. I told you that already."

"But maybe she's cold?"

"I gave her a blanket, asshat." I can imagine Alice with her hand on her hip, rolling her eyes at her brother. "Besides, isn't it a little pervy checking on her while she's asleep?"

"No."

"Edward, she asked you for space."

"Uh, not exactly," he counters.

"Well, I thought you were respecting the fact that she wants to be just friends for now."

"I am. But I also told her I would wait for her."

"And she isn't seeing anyone else, you know."

"I know."

"And she's crazy about you…"

"How do you know? Did she say that?" His voice rises a little higher and sounds…hopeful.

"Let's just say I wouldn't bet against me."

I drift back off to sleep, happily reassured by Edward's words with Alice. It is a mere reiteration of what he told me himself, but somehow hearing him tell Alice that he is waiting for me makes it seem more real. A small amount of guilt creeps in to make me doubt myself again—how could I be so selfish as to let Edward hang around the sidelines, not living his life? Then the thought of his arms around someone else, dancing with someone else, his lips on someone else's lips…it makes me feel nauseous, a far worse feeling than after chemo. So I hang on to his words instead…a lifeline, a promise, a someday.

When I wake up, the house is quiet. I straighten myself out, tempted to grab my extra toothbrush from Edward's bathroom, but not brave enough to knock on his door. Instead, I quietly exit Alice's room and find my way downstairs. Before I can find Alice, I stumble into the kitchen, where Esme is rolling out a dark colored dough that smells strongly of ginger.

"Gingerbread cookies?" I ask.

"They're Edward's favorite." Esme is the picture of domesticity and then some. She has a fancy printed apron over a dark green silk blouse and black pencil skirt. I almost believe she must be wearing heels as well, but when I turn the corner I realize that she is barefoot.

"Can I help?" I ask, quietly. She smiles her consent and hands me a large box of cookie cutters. There's one or more for every holiday imaginable, but instead of choosing the gingerbread man and woman, or the ridiculous turkey, I take one silver one out of its nesting dolls of a similar shape. A heart. Esme shifts one cutting board over to me with the flattened out dough, then starts the rolling pin on another batch. She pretends not to notice the series of hearts I have lined up on the cookie sheets but I can see the smug look on her face. It matches her adopted son's, just like her green eyes are his and brighten with the shade of her blouse. It makes me wonder if Edward's mother had green eyes as well.

"I tend to make these only around the holidays," she says simply. "It took me awhile to get the sugar-free recipe right."

"Sugar-free?" I repeat, confusion evident on my face, I'm sure. "Why?"

Esme pauses rolling the dough and tilts her head to look at me inquisitively. "Edward doesn't do well…when he eats things with a lot of sugar," she finally says vaguely. I nod my head. There is something itching at the back of my brain, begging for a question, but I cannot formulate it right now. I try to think back and remember if I have seen Edward eat anything that had a lot of sugar in it, but I'm coming up empty.

"I know that…things are hard for you right now, Bella," Esme says, interrupting my thought process. "But you mean so much to Edward…to both Edward and Alice…that it feels like you're part of our family already. If only you knew how much Edward has changed since he met you…" She drifts off and focuses on the dough, as if maybe she has said too much.

"They both mean a lot to me too," I say, uncertain how to respond.

Somehow it doesn't matter because Esme beams back at me. "You are always welcome at our house, Bella. No matter what happens." It is somewhat an ominous statement. Is it a warning? Esme leads the conversation back to her family, then starts to tell me about how she and Carlisle met as I finish making the ginger hearts. I am surprised at how easy it is to talk to her—even though it is easy for me to talk to my own mother, Renee always seems more like a sister to me. Esme is open as well, but more motherly in her actions and words. Before we know it, the first batch of gingerbread cookies are cooling, and Edward sneaks in behind me to snatch one out of my hands after I've taken a bite.

"Hey, that's mine!" I say. I turn around quickly to grab it back from him, but he is laughing as he pops the whole cookie in his mouth. I roll my eyes and grab another from the cooling rack.

"I didn't know you were awake," he says when he's finished chewing. "Why didn't you come to my room?"

"Um," I glance at him and Esme—they have the same mischievous glint flashing in their identical emerald eyes. "I didn't want to bother you?"

"You could never bother me, Bella," he says sincerely.

"I'm just going to start dinner if you two want to hang out," Esme says.

"Oh, I can help you," I respond immediately.

"Don't be silly, Bella…Besides, I think that Edward's been waiting around for you all day…"

"Mom!" He glares at her.

"Bella, would you take some cookies out to Alice? Edward, I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

I wander out with a plate of hearts to the backyard. Alice is sketching near the outdoor fireplace where Edward and I had our first kiss. Even though it is still warm out—despite it being November, it is almost always warm in Southern California—there is a low fire burning in the fireplace.

"What are you working on, Ali?" I ask as I place the cookies on the coffee table in front of her.

"Our dresses for Prom," she says nonchalantly as she glances at me quickly. She stops sketching momentarily to grab one of the gingerbread hearts.

"Oh," I say, then pause, as I take in my surroundings. The Cullens' backyard is even more breathtaking in the daytime. "Isn't it a little early for that? Wait…'_our_'?"

"Yup," she answers, then turns the sketchbook towards me. "Yours is inspired by 'water', so I sketched in front of the waterfall. It's going to be an ice blue satin." The dress is strapless, with draped fabric forming the skirt in the front, reminiscent of falling water. Alice's sketch of the side view reveals a low back and a long train that gathers from the draping in front. It is beautiful and I cannot believe that she is willing to make a dress like this for me. I am speechless.

"Wow, Ali. I can't let you make this for me…it's so much work. The fabric alone must cost so much—"

"Bella," she interjects with a wave of her hand. "You _have_ to let me make this for you. Otherwise, _my_ dress wouldn't be complete." I raise my eyebrow at her as I have no idea what she is talking about. "Mine," she continues. "Is inspired by _fire_, and yours is its counterpart." She shows me the preliminary sketches of her own dress as she gazes back and forth between the book and the fireplace. Her version is a fire red strapless, of course, with a very fitted bodice that pops out into a princess skirt with multi-layered tulle and organza flowers.

"You're brilliant, Alice," I say softly.

"Well, I have to admit that yours was also inspired by a dress Grace Kelly wore to the Academy Awards." She passes me a printout of the actress-cum-princess on the cover of _Life_ magazine. It is a side view, and I can readily see the similarities between the dresses, yet Alice has managed to make mine more modern with a vintage feel rather than just looking like a dress from the fifties.

"It's still beautiful. I just have no idea how I'm going to manage the train without falling." I bite my lower lip as I think about just how many times I am likely to faceplant and embarrass myself at Prom. Maybe I can channel the princess's grace as well.

"You'll be fine, Bella…You _are_ going with Edward, aren't you? He won't let you fall."

-0-

After I admire Alice's sketches, I wander back to the kitchen where Edward and Esme are eerily staring each other down. They glance at me after a moment, then I follow Edward upstairs to his room. I have no idea what happened between them, but since he is not offering up any information, I decide not to ask.

"What are you listening to?" I ask as we enter his bedroom. The stereo is on and paused, and Edward grabs the remote to re-start the music.

"Um…the Smiths."

I giggle as the familiar songs of their _Louder Than Bombs_ album start to surround us. _I know I'm unlovable. You don't have to tell me._ "Isn't that a little emo?"

He shrugs then his crooked smile emerges. "I prefer 'brooding'," he responds wryly. We walk over to his leather couch and sit side by side, one leg up and facing each other._ I don't have much in my life, but take it—it's yours._

"What do you have to be emo about? You have a great family, a roof over your head—and a nice one at that, you're healthy—"

"But you're not healthy," he interjects.

"But I'm not dying either, Edward." I retort. "You said that yourself, remember?" He smiles as I remind him of our earlier conversation. "So…why the Smiths?"

"I like their music."

"And this song?" I smile wryly back at him as the words to "Unlovable" continue fill our ears. _I wear black on the outside 'cause black is how I feel on the inside._

"Well, there's this sweet, beautiful, perfect girl I like who just wants to be _friends_." He flashes that irresistible crooked smile at me to soften his accusatory words.

_But I know that you would like me, if only you could see me, if only you could meet me._

"Edward," I pause then turn more fully towards him, not realizing just how close we are sitting next to each other. We are face to face and I can almost feel his breath on me. "You know how much I care about you, right?" He nods, looking down. "I overheard your conversation," I continue. At my confession, his head snaps up to look at me.

"With my mom?" His face holds an expression I cannot interpret.

"With Alice. I didn't mean to," I say quickly. "I was sleeping. I heard your voices outside her bedroom door.

"Like I've said before, you don't have to wait for me," I add quietly. "I don't mind…" I stop mid-sentence, not wanting to be dishonest with Edward. "I mean, I understand if you want to date…other people."

"Bella, I meant it when I said I would wait for you. There's no one else. Only you…"

He inches almost imperceptibly closer to me so I lean in and gently kiss him on the cheek. I smile at the contrasting sensation of his soft skin and scruffy jaw line. "Only you, Edward," I reply.

We stare at each other a moment longer and then I can stand it no longer. I have to turn away or I will kiss him again, this time on the lips. Friends don't do that, do they? I gesture over to his flat screen television and PS3. "So, what are we playing today?"

Edward ignores my question and buries his face in my neck. "Mmmmm," he says. "Do you know that you smell like ginger?"

"Likely from the cookies," I say, giggling at the feeling of his stubble on my sensitive skin.

"Sweet ginger…strawberries…freesia…I don't think it's the cookies."

"Um, sometimes I use ginger scented lotion," I confess.

He lifts his head from my neck to stare into my eyes again. "I think it's just you, Bella." I look away again before I get lost somewhere I cannot return from. He gently places his hand on my cheek to turn my face back towards him. "So, who chose the shape of the cookies, Bella?" he teases, likely knowing the answer.

"I did," I whisper.

"I thought so…my mom always makes gingerbread men."

"You don't like the hearts?"

"I love the hearts, _love_," he smiles then releases my face from his hand. He tosses me one of the game controllers and starts to teach me how to play a new game on his PS3. We play for an hour or so until Esme calls us to dinner. I am distracted during the game—which doesn't matter because Edward would kick my ass either way. I can't stop thinking about the fact that Esme told me she and Carlisle were married within six weeks of dating. Of course they were older than we are now—Carlisle was in medical school at the time. I have known Edward for one week longer than that and I am certain of my feelings for him as well. And more than certain that he feels the same way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading and especially to those reviewing. FFn is still fail at review replies and won't let me reply, but I appreciate and read all of them. I'm hoping to catch up FFn to chapter 18 this week, but otherwise you can catch up on Twilighted. I will post chapter 19 and 20 (both new) this week as well.**

The prom dresses:

B's: 2(dot)bp(dot)blogspot(dot)com/_PCAvCSnfwf0/SJ83y8PhDiI/AAAAAAAAAgk/X0WUSQiUrhI/s1600-h/grace-kelly-life-cover(dot)jpg

A's (2nd picture, Oscar de la Renta): www(dot)glamourvanity(dot)com/celebrities/scarlett-in-scarlet

There are some lines here (and in previous chapters) that are paraphrased or in reference to the original Twilight series. I'm sure you all spotted and recognized them.

There are some italicized lines towards the end from "Unlovable" by The Smiths-I don't own those words, just like I don't own Twilight.

What's one of your favorite lines from the books/movies? (Or what's the most overused line in FF?)


	12. Chapter 11: The InBetween

**Chapter 11**

**The In-Between**

_Bang, bang, bang_! "Edward, Bella, get dressed, dinner is ready!" a loud voice booms through Edward's bedroom door. Edward and I are in the middle of an epic Halo battle on his Xbox—epic meaning I haven't died within the first two minutes—and I stare at him questioningly.

He laughs then shouts back towards the door, "We're playing Xbox, Emm, you can come in!"

There is a lighter knock on the door before it opens very slowly. Edward's brother is a lot larger than he is, and he has one hand over his eyes and is peering through his fingers as walks in. "Are you guys decent?"

Edward laughs again and throws one of the pillows from his couch at him. "Yes, I was just introducing Bella to Halo…"

Emmett drops the hand covering his face and offers it to me. "You're Bella, I presume. Emmett Cullen. Glad to see I didn't interrupt anything…interesting." I shake his hand and can't help but smile back at his boisterousness. This is my introduction to the humor of Emmett Cullen.

Jasper joins us for dinner, and the whole atmosphere is cheerful. Esme teases Emmett that he should have brought his girlfriend too, since he is the only one not 'coupled' at the table. Emmett rolls his eyes at his mom, and Edward interjects that Emmett has a new girlfriend every week so it would be hard to invite someone for the holiday weekend.

Edward drives me back home, since Jasper and Alice planned on watching movies at the Cullens' house after dinner. He carries the ridiculous amount of shopping bags up to the front door for me, before dropping them quickly by my feet as I search in my bag for my keys. He stops me before I open the door and turns me towards him. "I had fun today, Bella," he says softly, and then brushes his lips gently on my forehead.

"Me too," I say, returning his crooked smile with one of my own. My smile does not fade as I watch him get back into his car and drive away.

When I walk into the living room, my mom is pouring over a photo album. There are more albums on the couch beside her and all over the coffee table.

"Hey, Mom," I say, placing all the bags next to the coffee table so I can join her. She looks up and I notice that her eyes are puffy and there are several tissues next to her. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Bells," she says, her voice slightly coarse from crying. "Really," she continues when I raise my eyebrows at her. "I was just looking for a picture for Maddie's wall."

"Maddie's wall?" We had visited her earlier in the week after one of my appointments. Her bone marrow transplant went relatively smoothly, but it was too soon to tell. She was in isolation—meaning limited visitors and those who visited had to scrub their hands thoroughly and wear masks _and_ special gowns—for the next four weeks at least while waiting for the transplant to 'take'.

"Tammy covered one wall of her hospital room in poster paper and asked everyone to bring pictures in for Maddie."

"That's a good idea," I say, knowing how much Maddie loves pictures.

"Yeah, she's drawing all over it too…it's a good way to occupy her time."

"So, Mom, are you giving her a really old picture?" I ask when I realize that she is flipping through one of the albums from when I was a baby. There is a picture of the three of us in front of our old house in Washington, a picture of my parents on a fishing trip, one of me toddling on the beach.

"No, I already chose the pictures…I guess I just got carried away." She hands me an envelope with two pictures in it. The first one is from last summer—my parents and I on vacation in San Diego. The second is a picture of Edward and I at our makeshift homecoming dance at the hospital. We are standing in a traditional dance picture pose—he has his arms around my waist, and I am leaning against his chest with my arms cradling his. I bite my lip briefly to keep from criticizing my mom for including this picture with Edward since I know how much Maddie adores him.

We make hot chocolate and curl back up on the couch together, flipping through old albums as I fill her in on my day of shopping and at the Cullens' house.

"So Rosalie seems to be doing okay?" she asks. I know that she's met with Rose's mom and they have had several phone conversations about the Royce situation.

"Yeah. She and her mom are spending more time together…Rose has volunteered with her on some charity work."

"And Royce isn't bothering her?"

"Actually…um, Jake said that Royce got kicked out of Benedict for the homecoming incident." My mom nods her head in understanding. I don't add the details of the big fallout once the chaperones heard that Royce hit someone, much less a girl. Jake, on the other hand, got away with just a suspension since he was defending Rose. Mrs. Hale started to make more of an effort to get to know Rose, and Rose seemed to be doing much better. "Mom?" I start.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Um, thanks for always being my friend." She puts down her mug of hot cocoa and places an arm around me and squeezes.

"Same here, Bells."

We flip through one of the older albums together—another one of our time in Washington. I trace lightly over a photo of my dad pushing me in a swing, a fluffy hoodie tied snug around my chubby face. We're both smiling and laughing and just carefree in the picture. The next shot is one of my mom alone, standing in front of a slide, presumably at the same playground. Her hair is windswept and in contrast to ours, her smile looks forced. "Were you really going to leave him then?" I ask.

"Yes," she admits. "I packed our bags but he came home early…you went running up to him…just seeing the two of you together made me change my mind." I ponder her words for a moment instead of responding. I had no idea that she had actually packed our things or, more importantly, that she was going to leave without saying anything to my dad to his face. "He was always a good father," she continues in a softer tone.

I nod my head in agreement. There is more to her words that she isn't saying.

-0-

The next few weeks pass in a blur as everyone starts to get ready for the holidays. While Thanksgiving is cheery, somehow the Christmas holidays are looming ahead of us like a black cloud. My mom usually shops last minute for the holidays, and this year she announces that she is already done by the first week of December. I know what it means even though neither my mom or dad will admit it—they want to be ready just in case I am in the hospital for the holidays.

Alice found me a gray newspaper boy hat with a small bill to match my uniform. Most days I wear that or my favorite burgundy soft beanie, depending on if it is an exam day. Even though I know that my teachers trust me, I don't want to be accused of cheating or having the answers on the bill of my hat. Most days I don't bother wearing my itchy wig underneath the hats—somehow I feel more comfortable without the fake hair, no matter how nice a wig it is.

Edward joins me for another one of Vanessa's games after school. This time Rosalie and Jacob sit next to us, and the four of us make up silly cheers to embarrass Ness as she dribbles down the court. Edward is relaxed and happy and, just like last time—minus the initial glare, he and Jacob get along very well.

"What next?" Jake asks as we wait for Vanessa after the game.

"We promised one of our other friends we'd stop by the diner after the game. You guys want to join us?" I look back and forth between Jake and Edward and they both smile their agreement.

We walk out of the gym and wait in the lobby area. It is only then that I notice the rain streaming down outside. I tug at my wig nervously. It is a lighter brown color than my real hair, and also shorter and straighter. I don't miss the frizzies that would pop out with my real hair in this type of weather, but suddenly I feel self-conscious. Jake and Edward politely made no mention of the change in my hair. Rosalie and Vanessa know that I hate the wig, which is why I hardly wear it at school. Even now I have my trusty beanie to cover most of it up.

"Um," I whisper to Rose as Jake and Edward talk about the game. "Do you have an umbrella?"

"In the car," she replies. "Don't worry—we can just make a run for it."

"But I haven't worn my wig in the rain," I say urgently. "What if it gets all…gross?"

"It's made of real hair, Bella," she whispers back. I frown, nonetheless.

Edward notices us whispering and puts his arms around my waist from behind me. "Are you okay, love?"

"Yeah…just worried about the rain," I confess.

"Just wait here," he says, then releases me. He pulls his hood over his tousled locks and runs towards the parking lot. The rain is coming down harder now. Vanessa joins us and she and Jake decide to just run to his car as well. I watch their silhouettes start to blur as they get farther away, hand in hand. Rosalie waits patiently with me for Edward. Edward returns with two umbrellas—he hands one to Rose, places his arm around me, and opens up a large umbrella over us as we exit the gym. Despite the pouring rain, not one drop touches my wig.

At the diner, a few of Vanessa's teammates join us in a large booth as we wait for another one of our friends to serve us. Edward drapes his arm around me casually, and he and Jake joke around about being the only two guys amongst five girls. I happily sip my strawberry milkshake and not so surreptitiously steal curly fries from Edward's plate. I am so pleased that Edward and Jake are actually getting along, and am so overwhelmed with this sense of _normalcy_ sitting in a diner amongst friends that the panic and insecurity over my wig dissipates.

While the rest of the group is chattering away, Edward leans towards me and whispers in my ear, "Is this okay?" as he motions towards his arm around me. I nod my consent as I look down shyly. _It's perfect._

-0-

The next day my mom drops me off to school just before the late bell rings and I am off running to my locker. Vanessa is quickly grabbing her Chemistry book from the locker next to mine and I barely glance at her as I throw around my own books and reach for my Spanish one. She slams her locker door shut as she greets me and starts to dash down the hallway. That's when I notice her hair whipping around her head. Her _short_ hair. Vanessa prizes her long locks as much as I do mine—we have similar waves to our hair, but hers is a darker, almost black shade.

"Ness! Your hair!" I squeak out. She has straightened her dark strands and it hangs in a sharp bob, ending just below her chin. She looks beautiful, the angles of the cut complementing her cheek bones.

"Yeah, I chopped it off yesterday, Bells" she laughs hurriedly. "Time for a change and all that. See you at break?" I nod then run towards homeroom before I'm late.

At break time, I wander over to the small kitchen at the far end of the school to get a breakfast burrito. I am busy half-walking, half-eating my burrito while trying not to spill hot sauce on my white uniform shirt when I glance up to the junior benches where I usually hang out with my friends. Rosalie and Vanessa are casually sharing a bag of chips as they face outwards towards the grass area. No one is sitting on the grass—muddy as it is from the previous day's rain. They look similar as they tilt their heads up towards the sun, but then it hits me that they look _similar_. I almost drop my burrito at the realization; Rose has chopped off her golden tresses as well. She left her waves in and styled it so that it looks almost forties in style, with a bit of something to keep the curls in place.

"Um…what did you guys _do?_" I ask as I get closer. They turn back towards me on the sidewalk, squinting slightly.

"Hey, Bells," Rosalie answers, ignoring my question completely while she smiles back at me. She is breathtaking with her shorter hair, looking really like a model in some vintage issue of _Life_.

Finally realization dawns on me as I tug on my gray newspaper boy hat with my free hand. I am not wearing my wig underneath today so it is a useless gesture. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't shave your heads," I say softly, but accusingly to my two best friends.

"We haven't shaved our hair off, Bella," Vanessa responds, in her matter-of-fact tone.

"But…why?" I am at loss for words for a moment then I continue. "I mean…you both look great with short hair…I just don't understand."

"We donated our hair," Rose responds casually. "To Locks of Love." _Locks of Love._ The organization that gifted me with my wig that I hardly wear, but would complain if I had to do without.

"It'll grow back, Bells," Vanessa adds. "Just like yours. Besides, we know we both look gorgeous."

I laugh at her pretend look of smugness, and agree with her completely. And—as much as I know they would never admit it to me—I know that they both feel a bit self-conscious without their long hair. It is a big change for all of us, but a reminder that we are in it together. I tug on my hat one more time before sitting down next to them on the bench. We sit outside and enjoy the bright sunshine of the day, the sweet smell that only comes after the rain, and the promise of new beginnings.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** For more info about donating hair: www(dot)locksoflove(dot)org

or www(dot)pantene(dot)com/en-us/beautiful-lengths-cause/pages/default(dot)aspx


	13. Chapter 12: Somewhere Over the Rainbow

**Chapter 12**

**Somewhere Over the Rainbow**

I have never been called into the principal's office. In fact, I had never been inside it except for my first day back at school after being diagnosed. So, when the intercom goes off during my religion class with the secretary asking me to come to the office with all of my belongings, my stomach plummets to the ground. All I can think about is my dad…that something happened to him in the line of duty.

As soon as I crack the office door open, I see my mom crumpled on the ancient vinyl light blue couch, scattered tissues surrounding her even though she cannot have been waiting long. "Mom?" I croak, afraid of what she is going to tell me.

She stands up quickly and immediately says, "Your dad is okay, Bella." Years of being the wife of a cop have taught her well. She knows what this impromptu school visit would make me worry about the most.

"Then, why…" I start but she interrupts me before I can form a full sentence.

"It's Maddie," she says before she starts crying again. I start to gather up all of her tissues so we can leave school and she can tell me more about what is going on. I assume that Maddie's transplant is not going well, or maybe that she has an infection. I am unprepared for what has actually happened.

"She passed away this morning, Bella," she finally chokes out. I am in shock. There is no other word to describe the feelings of numbness and disbelief that overcome me. I feel like I am watching this scene from the outside—I see me hugging my mom and waiting for some of her tears to subside before I guide her outside. She is parked on the street next to the office, which is up one floor since Covenant is built on the side of a hill. We climb inside and somehow I drive us home on autopilot. Charlie is already waiting for us there, in full uniform. He must have taken off from work early, expecting this fallout. He hugs both of us simultaneously, and then I let go as my mom buries her face in his chest, weeping again.

Finally, we sit down in the living room and Renee tells us the full story, or at least the bits and pieces that she knows from speaking briefly with Tammy that morning.

_The sound of Maddie breathing more quickly, in soft, short breaths._

_Her supple, pale skin, looking more and more sallow._

_Her low whimpering cries, and brave smiles._

_The beeping of all the hospital equipment._

_Maddie's blood pressure plummeting. A new infection invading her blood. _

_Clenched hands and silent tears. _

_Her breathing changing to erratic movements._

_Loud beeps that become more insistent._

_Overhead pages for the doctors. Code white. A bright red cart being wheeled outside Maddie's room._

_Tammy and Joel clinging tightly to each other._

The numbness fills my heart and I excuse myself to my room. I open up my schoolbooks and try to concentrate on English, Spanish, Chemistry, but nothing holds my attention. I have no tears; my mom has cried enough for the two of us. I suppose I am like my dad in that respect—thinking through the circumstances, more introspective. I imagine Tammy and Joel holding each other just outside Maddie's room, as they stand helpless amongst the madness. And then nodding their heads slowly in agreement when the doctors have said it has been too long.

I sigh, then stack my books back on my desk before heading to the kitchen to gather up the ingredients for lasagna. Tammy and Joel need to eat, after all, and I'm sure that cooking is the last thing on their minds. By the time I am writing the re-heating instructions for the lasagna and wrapping it up to tuck into the refrigerator, my dad comes into the kitchen to hand me my phone.

"I just found out," Edward says softly immediately after I answer. "Do you want me to come over?"

I shake my head and answer verbally into the phone as I walk back to my room and shut the door quietly. We talk for hours about everything and nothing, about Maddie's laughter and optimism, about Tammy and Joel's dedication to each other, to their children.

What we don't talk about speaks volumes.

Could I face what she faced? I _am_ facing what she faced. Even if her leukemia was more invasive, considered 'high' risk, what does that mean for me? At one point, she was where I am now, facing likely survival. What changed?

-0-

On the day of Maddie's funeral, a thick fog descends around the Southern California air. I wake up early and pad around the quiet house in my flannel pajamas, finally settling on the living room couch with a cup of tea. I turn up the heat and wrap a blanket around me, rather than putting something on my exposed scalp.

I stare out the window at the gray mistiness, clouding my vision. Literally and figuratively. I am unsure how to feel. Grateful that it isn't me? Sad at losing my friend? Fear that one day it _would_ be me? Anger that despite the transplant, she died anyway.

Eventually, my cup of tea runs cold, and I notice the couch shift in weight as my dad sits down next to me. He is fully dressed in his uniform, unable to take an extra day off. I know he is saving them up for when—not if—I am next in the hospital.

"Will you be okay?" he asks quietly.

I nod slowly. "I always am."

"I mean…taking care of your mom today? Do you need me to go with you?"

I laugh at his realism. He knows Renee so well. "We'll be fine, Dad. Thanks." I place my mug on the coffee table and stand up with him to hug him quickly before he leaves for work. "And…I love you."

The church is packed with people of all ages, but mostly other parents—the many friends that Tammy has made inside and outside of the hospital. Among the masses, I recognize quite a number of faces; there are nurses, therapists, physicians, all kinds of people who took care of Maddie during her numerous hospital visits. I notice Angela and a few of the other fellows sitting quietly towards the front next to Dr. G. As the ceremony starts, I glance quickly around me one last time. Jasper is sitting in the last pew by himself—he gives me a small smile and a mini-salute before looking down at the ground. He wants to be there alone. Turning again towards the other side, I realize who I am looking for. Edward is nowhere to be found.

There is a small white casket in front, with multi-colored flowers arranged on top, paper wired butterflies poking out almost haphazardly from the fresh blooms. An easel holding a portrait of Maddie stands directly to the right of the casket. She is wearing a bright pink dress and a wide smile against a dark professional photographer's background. Complete with her wig and a tiara, of course.

Truthfully the ceremony is a blur—passing by quickly and in extreme slow motion at the same time. Tammy reads a sort of eulogy from a typed out piece of paper. It is heartfelt, and she talks about the many things that Maddie taught her about life. It reminds me of a conversation I had with Angela. How do you write a eulogy about a barely five-year-old girl? You can only write about the happiness that she brought. Joel follows his wife and speaks from his heart, rather than reading something to the masses. His words are just as moving as Tammy's as he recalls the simple things—Maddie eating her first bite of solid food, rice cereal dribbling on her chin, bib and chair; Maddie snuggling under the covers in the crook of his arm, Maddie running along the beach and squealing as the cold waters hit her toes. Midway through his memories, Sydney starts bawling and Tammy tries to console her by bouncing her up and down. This everyday act makes me smile and I place my hand in my mother's own.

The video collage brings on fresh rounds of tears to everyone around me. I squeeze my mom's hand as her sobs overpower the harpist accompanying the video. Maddie's once chubby face takes over the screen as she and Joel build Lego tower after tower and immediately topple them over. Pictures of family vacations before she got sick, many hospital shots as well, and one of Maddie holding a newborn Sydney with the assistance of her mom. My own mom sniffles again, and I glance—almost futilely—one last time around the church. Still no Edward.

After the ceremony, we linger for a bit around the lobby before the burial procession starts. I can see Jasper walking slowly back towards his car, a lone figure in the distance. My mom seeks out Tammy to offer her condolences before she needs to return to work. I wait patiently, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. Joel hands Sydney to a family member and joins us as I not-so-furtively glance around.

"You know he really helped me a lot when Maddie was first diagnosed," Joel says to me softly. At my confused look, he clarifies, "Edward. That's who you're looking for, right?" My mom hugs Tammy and goes to talk to some of the nurses as I nod my head. "He found me sitting in the lobby one of those first nights…I couldn't even face Maddie in her hospital bed. He snuck me into the teen room and we played video games until I calmed down. Until I could go face my brave little girl…" At this admission, he chokes back a sob, and Tammy reaches around to hug him gently around the waist.

"I'm so so—" I start, but she holds her other hand up to stop me from saying what she has likely been hearing all day.

"It's okay, Bella. Thank you for coming today," she says graciously. Her hair is pulled back messily into a ponytail and there are dark circles underneath her eyes. It is the first time I have ever seen her even slightly disheveled, even after all the time I have spent with them at the hospital. "You know, Bella, although we are very touched at all the people who…are _here_ today in honor of Maddie, I—we—understand why some people couldn't be here."

Joel is pulled away by another family member, and Tammy lowers her voice conspiratorially as she glances over to my mom who is deep in conversation with one of the nurses. "I understand why Edward isn't here."

"Why?" I almost whisper back, wondering if she would have more insight than me.

"Because of you," she answers immediately. "He's afraid of losing you."

"But, I'm not dying," I blurt out, and blush instantly at my blunder. "Tammy, I didn't mean…I'm sorry…I—"

"It's fine, Bella," she says understandingly. "You're _not_ dying. It's true. But he still fears it. And…you're not_ living_ your life either. It's okay to want to feel _normal_ when you're sick, and it's also okay to let him share in what you're going through. He's stronger than you think."

I mull over her words, unable to think of a response, and we are being gathered for the caravan to the cemetery anyway. _I'm not dying, but I'm not living my life._ Am I not living my life? Am I denying myself something by denying my feelings for Edward?

After I drop my mom at work, I rush over to the cemetery for the burial. The fog has burned off with the soft winter sun, and the rolling hills beyond the fence of the cemetery make the place feel ethereal. The atmosphere adds to the surrealness of the day for me.

I park at the end of the long line of cars and saunter over to the crowd. There are a few rows of foldout chairs next to a mound of dirt, and also a small podium. Since I am late, I have missed the additional speeches from family and friends. Maddie's family is together—Tammy holding Sydney in her arms—as Joel reaches down to a small white wicker basket. A man next to the basket lifts the lid and places a white dove in Joel's hands. He says a phrase I cannot hear above the din of the crowd, then throws his arms out to release the bird. Another man opens the lids to several larger wicker trunks and soon the sky is filled with dozens of white doves following the first lone dove. They circle around the cemetery several times, the now brightness of the sun peeking out through the clouds, playing a graceful game of hide and seek. One white dove leading the others home.

In that moment, there is nowhere else I want to be but by Edward's side. I run back to the car, the doves just starting to make their way out of sight, and hope that I know where to find him.

My mind is frantically flipping through spots where he could be, as my calls and texts remain unanswered. Even Alice's simple response gives me no further information. _I thought he was with you._ I drive towards his school on autopilot, bypassing the football field, and recalling my nervousness about asking Edward to Homecoming the first time I went to this place. It seems like a lifetime ago.

I stride quickly through the nature center, wandering through the trails, happy I decided to wear flats with my 'funeral outfit', a dark blue silk blouse and black pants. The trails are empty, bereft of any other human presence so I wander back towards the front where the butterfly house is located. The weather is too cold—even in California—for butterflies. I peek through the screen walls anyway, spotting the small cocoon structure. Like the rest of the butterfly house, it is empty; all of the walls have been broken down and each new life has unfurled its wings and flown away.

-0-

I walk up the pathway to Edward's house, headed towards the front door and hoping that he's actually home. I'm unsure where else to look for him—I'm certain that he didn't go to school, and he's not at the butterfly house. My only other thought is to walk down to the beach nearby if there is no answer. This last idea is not needed, however. As I get closer to the house, I can clearly hear the soft, sad notes of Edward's piano filling the air. A slow lilting melody filling the emptiness in my heart.

I carefully walk along the house to the front of the French doors. Edward hunches over the piano, bronze locks falling gently across his forehead and slightly in his eyes. I watch the beauty of his movements for a moment before tapping on the glass with my hand. As soon as he sees me there, he bolts up from the piano bench, almost knocking it down in the process, and whips open the door. Then his arms are around me, and mine are around his waist. I drop my keys on the ground in the process and bury myself in his neck.

The warmth from his body feels good against mine, his hands stroke my hair as he murmurs, "It's okay, my Bella." Then, and only then, do I start to cry. Heaving, sobbing, messy snot-filled tears fill the newfound silence. Edward continues to stroke my hair and kisses the top of my head gently, saying my name softly. Not once does he question why I am there, not once does he explain why he didn't go to the funeral. There is no need.

Finally when my tears start to ebb, I pull back to look at him. There are quiet tears running down his face as well. "Edward," I say, wanting to tell him so much, wanting to share my fears and grief, but mostly wanting to correct the one thing that I can. "I'm tired of trying to stay away from you," I continue in a whisper.

"Then don't," is all he answers. He pulls me further into the house, shuts the French doors, and places me gently in his lap as he sits back down on the piano bench. I shift towards him, throwing my arms around his neck instead of his waist. No words are spoken but I can see beyond the sadness of his green eyes, a small flicker of understanding before he leans in and starts gently kissing me on the lips. I breathe a sigh of relief and smile for the first time in the past few days as I reciprocate his soft kisses, a little bit of happiness amongst the grief.

"You taste like tears."

"So do you. Tears and…Bella," he responds in between placing kisses on my neck.

I pull back so that I can look into his eyes. "I've missed you."

"I've been here all along."

"I know. You know what I mean…" I say softly.

"Yeah. I've missed you too. That was your choice, love." There is no resentment in his words, only acceptance. He leans in to place a quick kiss on my lips and then focuses on my neck again where he plants several more kisses that make me almost forget what I want to ask him. Almost.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

This time he is the one who pulls back so that he can look into my eyes. The fire in his eyes that I have missed for the past month or so ignites, leaving me breathless. He smiles my favorite crooked smile, then whispers, "Of course." Then he leans back in to kiss me gently and sweetly, our tongues tangling deliciously for an immeasurable moment.

I feel relieved and happy. We are no longer in an in-between stage, we are no longer pretending to be just friends. The decision was mine all along, I know, yet my misguided fear led me astray. I didn't really even give Edward a choice in the matter, except the choice to walk away.

"Edward, I'm sorry," I say, grateful that he chose to wait for me.

"For what?" he responds, lightly running his fingers through my hair.

"For putting you through all that." I gesture absently towards the window, unsure how to articulate my regret.

"Bella, love, I told you you're worth it," Edward says firmly with a smile.

"I'm still scared," I confess.

"I know."

"I…just didn't want you to have to go through all this."

"I know."

"All the chemo, the time in the hospital, the not knowing…"

"Bella," he interrupts. "You know I'm going through it anyway, right? We'll get through it together."

Silence.

"I'm sorry I wasn't with you today," he continues.

"It's okay…I understand."

"Do you?"

"I talked to Tammy. She explained why it was too hard for you to go. That you…worry…about me."

"Bella…it's not just that I worry about you," he says finally. "Uh, you remember that Carlisle and Esme are really my aunt and uncle, right?" I remember when we first met at the hospital and we played a sort of twenty questions about each other, getting to know each other.

"Yeah, and Alice and Emmett are your cousins, right?"

He nods slowly, then looks blankly past me. I let him have his moment as he contemplates whatever it is he wants to tell me. I have never asked him about his biological parents, figuring that he would tell me when he is ready.

He takes a deep breath and then begins. "I grew up in Washington state, in a small town over there…I'm sad to say I don't remember enough about my parents, except the stories that Esme tells me. Sometimes…sometimes I'm not sure if what I picture is an actual memory or me picturing the memory that she has told me over and over again.

"Esme and my mom look very much alike. I…I think that's what made it easier for me to accept her as my adopted mother. I could pretend that…that she was still here. But my dad…"

"What happened to them, Edward?" I ask softly.

"Car accident," he answers back. I look at him to see if he's going to give me any further explanation. "It's hard to talk about," he admits. "I…sometimes forget all the details, or want to forget them."

"Were you in the car?"

He shakes his head. "No. It was during a severe rainstorm…it was always raining up there. They…they were coming to pick me up from the babysitter's house. They never made it." He croaks out the last sentence and I have a feeling that it is all he is going to share with me for now. I slide off of his lap to sit next to him on the piano bench.

"Do you know what my clearest memory of my parents is? Their funeral. I can picture everyone looking at me, next to Esme and Carlisle, in the front pew. I can picture me hugging their caskets before they were lowered to the ground, and staring back through the windows as we drove away. I…I didn't want to remember Maddie like that. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you today, Bella."

"You _are_ here for me, Edward." I respond immediately. "Always." I take his hand in mine and intertwine our fingers. As painful as the day has been, I feel a sense of contentment at us…clearing the air. Admitting our feelings to each other. I'm not sure what to call it, as we had already admitted them, but now there are no more invisible barriers. Just me and Edward. Just as it should be.


	14. Chapter 13: Falling Snow

**Chapter 13**

**Falling Snow**

Esme answers the door and I excitedly greet her as I hand her the red cellophane-covered basket while balancing a smaller basket and cooler in my other hand. Inside her basket, I have tucked away several smaller wrapped bags of divinity cookies, handmade chocolates, scones and biscotti.

"Merry Christmas!" we say simultaneously, and I set down my things so I can hug her properly.

"Um, I made them myself," I say. I had been in the kitchen all week getting the Cullens' gift basket ready, as well as several others for my doctors and nurses. My mom was regulated to wrapping up everything—since she was such an 'expert' at it—so that she couldn't mess up any of the sweets. We blasted cheesy Christmas music to sing along to, and managed not to make too much of a mess in our kitchen.

After Esme is finished gushing over the baked goods, Edward and I head down to the beach by his house. We aim for the smaller, more private one, and amble down the paved road to the cove. There are a few other groups of people there, most of whom are carefully walking across the protected tide pools. There are some rock formations closer to land, and several seabirds take advantage of their location.

Edward helps me spread out the blanket on the sand. The weather is slightly chilly, but bearable and the sun warms us up a bit. I don't let him help unpack the cooler and picnic basket, wanting to present everything myself. He stares out at the ocean as I set it up, and then collapses on his knees on the blanket next to me.

"I have something for you before we eat," he says. "Merry Christmas, love." He pulls a small box out of his flannel pocket. I bite my lip, horrified, at the turquoise blue box and wide white bow. Tiffany & Co. And then I smile tentatively back at him, not wanting him to feel bad for giving me a gift.

Silently I pull the ribbon and open the box. Edward is bouncing on his knees—he looks just like Alice—in his excitement. There is a matching velvet bag inside and I open it slowly, and lift out a silver chain attached to an open heart-shaped pendant with a small diamond at its center. Not only has he _bought_ me a present, but it has a freaking diamond on it. I drop it back in the bag, and say a quiet thank you.

His face drops and I feel badly, but my cheeks burn up instead. I don't know what to do with a gift like this. "You…you don't like it?" he asks, tentatively.

"It's beautiful, Edward. It's just…I didn't have any money for gifts this year…" I trail off and look down, and then continue, "I mean, usually I work after school, but with my leukemia…" I don't add that I didn't want to ask my parents for money, not after overhearing them talk about all my medical bills and the second mortgage they are considering in order to pay for them. Or that I had a partial scholarship for my school, and the principal had somehow found a _full_ scholarship for me so that I didn't have to transfer.

"Bella, I didn't get you a gift just so you would get me one."

"Um, this picnic was my gift for you," I confess, still unable to lift my eyes to his. I glance at the mini tea sandwiches, homemade scones, fruit salad, and cheese and crackers and I wonder if it was a silly idea, after all. Edward puts my fears to rest immediately.

"And I love it. Thank you," he says sincerely. "Please let me give _my_ gift to _you_." He takes the necklace out of the velvet bag and the look on his face is so earnest that I can't help but agree.

"Thank you, Edward," I say as he gently clasps the silver heart around my neck.

-0-

Edward and his family head out for their annual trip to Vail over winter break. His school's break and mine completely overlap and I am bummed that we won't have the extra time together. The only thing that makes it easier is knowing how much he'd rather stay in California too, especially since he can't ski or snowboard after his knee surgery.

Rose and her family leave as well, though Rose is uncertain where they are headed as they have vacationed with Royce's family for the past several years in Mammoth. She says her mom has made some new friends and all she knows is to pack her winter gear. Non-California winter gear.

Vanessa has added hours at the bookstore, though I do spend some days with her and Jake as a third wheel. We are sitting at the beach one day—a different one than the one near Edward's house—on a sunny yet breezy day at the beginning of break when I get the first message from Rose.

_You'll never guess who I ran into…Edward. –R_

Jake is wandering through the tide pools while Vanessa and I try to catch some warmth from the sun. In actuality I am feigning interest in my book and she is ogling her boyfriend from afar.

_Are you in Vail?_ I text back.

_Yes. He and Alice have been keeping me company._

Hmm. Okay, Alice is there with them, at least. I still can't help the surge of…jealousy that emerges, even though I trust my best friend and I trust Edward. I want to be in Vail too.

_Ness, Jake, and I are freezing at the beach. –B_

_You don't know cold, Bells. It's snowing here._

And why hasn't Edward told me that Rose is there? I ponder this question for a little too long and she texts me again.

_Edward's friends are here too. You've never mentioned how funny they all are together. –R _

Edward's friends? I've never met them. I snap my phone shut, not wanting to hear more until I hear from Edward himself. I figure I'll tell Rose I lost reception. At the sound of my phone snapping, Vanessa turns to me with concern. Sheepishly I show her the offending texts and admit that I'm being ridiculous.

"Bells, if he wanted to ask Rose out, he would have a long time ago," she says.

"Besides, you know Rose better than that." I do, and I know my…boyfriend as well. But the jealousy stews nonetheless.

-0-

Later in the week I notice I have several missed messages on my phone and one text. I open the text first since it's faster.

_Jazz at hospital for relapse. He's ok but alone. Can u visit him for me? –A_

Before calling Alice back, I listen to my messages as Alice explains basically the same thing. I call Jasper and we briefly talk about me coming by after my infusion the next day. Instead of having my mom take off work, I have Vanessa drop me off and plan to spend the afternoon hanging out with Jasper until my mom picks me up after her shift.

Jasper is nonchalant on the phone—other than to reassure me that it isn't serious or contagious. So I decide not to ask details until I get there. I figure he wouldn't be 'alone' at the hospital if it _was_ serious—Alice would fly back from Vail otherwise.

After my clinic appointment, I wander over to the hospital to Jasper's room. I walk in after he answers with an immediate "Come in" and laugh at the scene in front of me. Jasper is sitting in his hospital bed in jeans and a tee shirt with a dozen video games and DVDs littered around him. He pauses the game he is playing and salutes me as I enter the room. He looks like he always does, but I notice his face is puffier.

"Hey, Bella," he drawls. "You made it." His smile is genuine and warm.

"I said I'd be here, remember?" I tease.

"Yeah, but…" he leaves his sentence unfinished as he glances out the window briefly, then shakes his head. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asks and gestures to a disposable cooler on the floor that has a Tupperware full of cookies on top of it.

"Ever the host," I tease as I pick up a cookie and a soda. "Did your mom leave those for you?"

His face drops momentarily before he grins. "Nah…some of the nurses leave me gifts. I think they think I'm into cougars," he jokes. I laugh as I know who his daytime nurse is, and she is the most grandmotherly nurse I have ever met.

"So what are you in for?" I ask finally, curiosity getting the best of me.

"A relapse," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know what that means…" I admit. For me, a relapse would happen after I was in remission; that if after my first rounds of chemotherapy, the cancer came back.

"Well…see how I'm puffier than usual?"

I nod my head.

"It's part of it, also my blood pressure is high and stuff…so I have to take steroids and they keep me here until my blood pressure is better."

"Oh. Does this happen a lot?"

"Not really…the worse time was when my mom was out of town." He turns his attention back to the television, and tosses me a video game controller to signal that the conversation is over. We hang out until my own mom gets there, and never once do I see any sign of Jasper's parents. I know better than to ask him about it, for now.

-0-

Sometime after Christmas, my mom and I stop by Tammy's house to drop off more food. Our visit is short, as we don't want to intrude, but I can see the lost look in her eyes as she makes pleasantries and small talk nonetheless. I am baking a batch of white chocolate chip cookies to drop by the next day when I get a confusing text from Edward.

_What are you doing tomorrow?—E_

_Not much. –B _ I debate making up an elaborate answer, but settle for the truth.

_Want to see some snow?—E _

_Ha. Ha.—B_ Really trying to rub it in that I couldn't go to Vail with him and his family? Not his usual style. I toss the white chocolate chunks in the batter and stir them in as I wait for him to respond.

_I was hoping we could go to Big Bear for the day. Back from Vail early. –E_

I squeal and dial his number immediately. "You're back!" I nearly scream before he can even say hello.

"Did you miss me, love?" he teases.

"Maybe a little…" I say back, completely unconvincingly.

"Does this mean you'll go to Big Bear with me?"

"I'll have to ask my parents," I say, uncertain if they'll let me travel that far with him. It's only an hour and a half away but they are stricter since I was diagnosed.

In the end, my parents agree willingly, although there is some sort of weird exchange between the two of them as my dad scowls momentarily, and my mom reminds him of some appointment they have together. I also have to agree to call them if I feel at all nauseous, warm, or weak.

-0-

"Why are you back early?" I half mumble in the early hours of the next day as I lean against Edward's car window. It is early enough that it is still dark outside, though the sky is starting to turn light orange and lavender. I am trying to stay awake so that I can keep Edward company as he drives.

"Carlisle had some kind of emergency at the hospital," he replies. "And, Bella? It's okay if you fall asleep…I promise I'll get us there okay."

"Okay," I say, then jolt awake again. "I forgot I was supposed to visit Jasper today!" Jasper was sent home two days ago, but was still taking it easy at home.

"Bella…do you honestly think that Alice wouldn't come home early when I did?" he laughs at me.

I smile, then succumb to my drowsiness.

When I wake up again, my stomach is in shambles. Edward's car is hugging the curvy, climbing road, and I curse my susceptibility to nausea. "Um," I say, unable to get another word out; instead I clutch the car door handle and manage to crack the window open. Edward slows down a bit, and places one hand on mine to comfort me.

I gaze out the window once my stomach settles. The sun has risen and is reflecting off piles of soft snow on both sides of the road. A short while later, Edward pulls into the parking lot of one of the ski lodges. It takes us a while to find a spot as everyone else is piling in for some snow time during the winter break as well. I notice several groups of people pulling out their ski or snowboard gear out of their cars.

"Do you miss skiing?" I ask Edward tentatively.

"Nah…I'll be able to again eventually, I think. Just not this soon after my surgery."

"So what did you do in Vail then?"

"Not much," he admits. "Brood over the fact that you weren't there?" He closes one of his hands around one of mine and hands me one of Esme's old ski jackets with the other. It fits perfectly.

We spend the morning sledding down small hills with Edward steering to make sure we don't crash. He is careful in his movements, trying hard not to injure me or cause any bruises. When we tire of that, we make multiple snow angels on the ground. I make one right next to one of his, so that they look like they are touching each other's wings. We hold hands within our wings, grinning happily at each other. I like this; these simple moments of touch that remind me that we are together.

"Thanks for bringing me here," I say as we head towards one of the lodges near the ski area for lunch.

"Thanks for coming with me, love."

The sky darkens slightly, and light flakes start swirling around us. They are soft and somewhat cold, but I can't help but spread my arms out around me in an attempt to catch them all over me.

"What are you doing, Bella?" Edward laughs.

"I've never seen it snow before," I explain. I open my mouth and tilt my head back to trap a snowflake on my tongue. Random strands of my wig are starting to cling to my face and the hood of my jacket but I no longer care. The snow feels good, my boyfriend came home just to spend time with me, and I am not going to be defeated by my cancer.

Edward gives in and soon he is catching snowflakes as well, tiny drops of water falling into his warm mouth. As soon as he catches his first one, he grabs my arm and pulls me into him. He kisses me gently, and his tongue is cold and delicious against mine.

-0-

The drive home is mostly quiet and content as we take turns choosing songs off of Edward's iPod. I sing along off-key to the songs I know and he quirks his eyebrows at me, which only makes me sing more loudly.

Halfway home his phone starts ringing repeatedly while he ignores it. "Um, do you want me to get that?" I ask.

He waves me off and says, "It's not important."

"How do you know?" I counter.

"Because it's not the ring tone I have for my family, and you're sitting next to me."

I pick up his phone anyway and read the missed call. "It's your friend, Kate," I say quietly. "Maybe you should call her—looks like she called a few times."

He eyes me carefully while glancing back and forth on the road. I smile reassuringly back at him while fiddling with the heart necklace he gave me, so he returns her call. They have a brief conversation, most of which I can't interpret from his noncommittal responses of "uh-huh", "how are _you_?" and "where?". Finally he lets her know where we're at on the road and agrees to "less than an hour". He's going to meet her in less than an hour.

"Bella, I'm sorry I have to cut our day together short," he says after flipping close his cell phone. "You must be tired, anyway."

"I'm fine," I insist, wondering how much he is going to tell me, but not really wanting to ask. "I can…I can go with you."

"Um, my friend needs my help," he stalls. "I…I don't know if it's the best place for you."

"Edward," I say sharply. "Do you know that I've never actually _met_ any of your friends?"

"You know Jasper," he counters. "And Alice."

"I met both of them at the hospital," I retort. "That doesn't count. Rose said she hung out with you and your friends in Vail."

"Yes," he admits quietly. "Alice and I saw her sulking in the corner of one of the lodges…how could we not ask her to join us?" I nod; I had already heard from Rose, but it still felt…odd that she had met with Edward's friends and hung out with his family while I was stuck in California.

"Why can't I go with you to meet Kate?"

"Bella…" he pauses to glance over at me again. He must have seen something in my eyes because he turns towards the road again before responding in a low voice. "Do you remember I was helping Kate at the No Doubt concert?"

"Yes." I remember him leaving me in the meadow section of the amphitheater to join his pretty blonde friend.

"Her boyfriend is a heroin addict, Bella. I…babysit him sometimes."

"What?" I ask and he repeats himself. I have no idea what to think.

In the end, he agrees to let me go with him after several warnings, and the terrible, unpredictable Southern California traffic we find ourselves in. It takes us two more hours—more than twice the time it should have taken since we were already down the mountain—to make it to the coast. While we drive, he fills me in on the bare minimum of his relationship with Kate and her boyfriend, Garrett.

-0-

Edward pulls into the short driveway of a beach house when we can't find any street parking. After we wander through an alley to the front of the house, I notice a 'For sale' sign on the patio, shaking back and forth with the light ocean breeze. The lights are off, and everything surrounding it is dark.

We let ourselves into the house after a short knock; the door is unlocked. The front rooms are empty of any furniture. Edward holds my hand and whispers, "This is his old house…He comes here sometimes when he's using."

Kate comes out to meet us and when I see the look of relief on her face, all previous feelings of jealousy dissipate. "I'm sorry," she says, turning to me. "I didn't know who else to call." I nod once, again not knowing what to answer.

"Where is he?" Edward asks.

She leads us down a lit hallway—the only light on in the semi-abandoned house—to one of the downstairs bedrooms. Lying on the carpet is a blonde man, seemingly asleep, except for the scattered needles surrounding him. His tee shirt and plaid button down are wrinkled and he has a few days worth of stubble. He looks a few years older than us, but it is hard to tell.

"He wasn't answering his phone," Kate says. "So I came to look for him. It's been awhile since he's been this bad…I…I think the fact that his parents are selling the house is hitting him hard."

Edward crosses the room and leans down to Garrett's mouth and listens for a moment while watching his chest rise and fall. He reaches over to check Garrett's pulse on his wrist, something I recognize from multiple nurses taking my vitals.

He stands up quickly and asks, "How many more times, Kate?"

"I don't know," she says softly. Her voice sounds lost, even in the quiet stillness of the empty house.

"He was fine in Vail," Edward states.

"I think he must have contacted his dealer when he got back," Kate answers, and then continues in a stronger voice, "I think it's time."

Edward pulls out his phone and seems to be talking to Emmett—who is still in Vail—briefly before calling someone else. While he is on the phone, Kate and I take the opportunity to introduce ourselves to each other since we haven't officially met.

"He wasn't always like this," she says apologetically to me. The whole situation feels surreal. Edward and I were catching snowflakes on our tongues just a few short hours ago. Edward comes to join us after several minutes, and the three of us decide to wait outside.

"He'll be okay in there alone?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly.

"He'll be fine," he reassures both me and Kate.

We go to the front patio and sit on the low wall facing the ocean. I can see where the patio furniture used to stand, and a state of the art barbeque grill sits unused in the corner. All of the planters are meticulous, despite the abandoned look of the beach house, likely being maintained for showings.

Edward sits between the two of us with his leg touching mine, and we stare out at the bright foam of the crashing waves, the dark ocean water not as visible to us in the moonless night. For long minutes, the soft crescendo-decrescendo is all that can be heard besides our three breaths in the cold night. I don't want to break the silence by asking questions, not knowing how much Edward would share with me in front of Kate anyway. I realize that there are softer sounds coming in the darkness, the unmistakable noises of quiet sniffling and a broken heart. Edward leans over and places his arm around Kate as she buries her head on his shoulder. He murmurs what I assume is something reassuring to her, and her sobs are punctuated by nods of her head and calm agreement.

Finally I turn towards quick footsteps heading towards us, a welcome interruption to our bizarre non-quiet quiet. I am both surprised and not surprised by the figure coming towards us. Carlisle.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Bella's necklace: www(dot)tiffany(dot)com/Shopping/Item(dot)aspx?fromGrid=1&sku=21208876&mcat=&cid=&search_params=s+1-p+9-c+-r+-x+-n+6-ri+-ni+0-t+heart+diamond+pendant-k+&search=1

When (and where) was your first snowfall?


	15. Chapter 14: Illumination

**Chapter 14**

**Illumination**

The weeks following winter break pass by in a blur. The semester is ending and I struggle to study for finals in between appointments. Edward is busy with his own finals, though we manage to make time to hang out on the weekends or study together. He updates me on Garrett's progress in rehab, saying his parents moved him to a private facility but have not visited.

Carlisle took over immediately the night he met us at the beach house. After examining Garrett, he chose to call his parents and drive him to the hospital rather than calling for an ambulance. Edward was admonished for keeping Garrett's problems a secret for so long. Then praised for taking care of him.

It turns out that Garrett wasn't against going to rehab, which was a good sign. In fact, his continued addiction almost felt like a cry for help from his inattentive parents. He saw more of Carlisle and Esme than he even heard from his own parents, but at least they were calling to check on him.

Angela and I have lunch together at Ida's, the café near the hospital, when she is post-call one Saturday after one of my appointments. I glance around at the small café, remembering meeting Edward here right after we first met.

"My hair is starting to grow back," I say excitedly as soon as we are seated. I tip my gray hat off for a moment to show off the peach fuzz starting to grow on my scalp.

"That's great, Bella," she says warmly.

"I don't know for how long…but it's nice to have a little hair again."

"Of course," she answers, almost absentmindedly as she picks at her salad. She looks tired, and I wonder for the hundredth time why she is always so willing to make time for me.

"Angela," I say, slightly uncertain. "Thanks for being my friend."

"You, too, Bella. I enjoy hanging out with you." She smiles and reaches out for one of my hands to pat it gently. That's when I notice the simple solitaire diamond ring on her left hand.

I gasp and then try hard not to squeal. "He proposed!" I manage to only half-shout in my enthusiasm. "You're getting married!"

"Yes," Angela smiles even wider. "Ben and I are getting married. It's time to look towards my future." Her simple statement means so much. She tells me the details of their engagement, how he asked her in a quiet moment, a non-extravagant way, befitting of the two of them. She also tells me a little bit about their wedding plans, though no date has been set yet.

"I've been making plans too," I say proudly because I want to look towards my future as well. "Edward and his sister are going up to Berkeley to visit their brother. I might go with them…I…I want to check out some colleges."

"That's great, Bella! You're doing great on chemo…and I think you should look into places you might want to apply to next year." We happily finish our lunch with Angela telling me stories of her own college days. Anyone walking in to the café would see us as friends or sisters, rather than doctor and patient.

-0-

I toss and turn in my bed, unable to sleep. The more I get frustrated, the more I cannot fall asleep. It's not too late—close to midnight—but I fight the urge to text or call Edward anyway, in case he's actually asleep. Instead I opt to get a glass of water or warm milk. As I approach the kitchen, I stop just outside before entering at the sound of my parents' hushed voices.

"What if she gets sick?" my dad asks.

"She knows what to look for. And Angela said it would be a good idea when I called her," my mom says gently.

"But she'll be so far away…"

"She going to see Dr. G the day before. If he doesn't think it's a good idea, or if she's getting sick at all, we can cancel. Besides, Edward will make sure she's okay, you know that."

"I know," he concedes gruffly. I smile at their trust in Edward.

"Remember what our therapist said, Charlie?" my mom continues softly. _ They're seeing a therapist?_ I guess it makes sense, and I remember Tammy mentioning that she and Joel see one as well. "This is a good sign for her…applying to college, visiting colleges. She needs this." Her words are met with his silence. "And we need this too."

I quietly re-trace my steps back to my bedroom, not wanting to disturb their conversation, even if it is about me.

-0-

Edward picks me up directly from school to leave for our road trip up north so we could beat the Friday traffic. I had quickly changed out of my uniform and tucked it into my duffle bag. He is leaning against the hood of his car in my school parking lot, and several underclassmen stare at him as they walk by.

"Where's Ali?" I ask as I peer around him to see if she is in the backseat.

"She's not coming anymore," he says smoothly as he takes my bag from me.

I stare at him for a moment. "But I told my parents—"

"She was _supposed_ to come with us," he interjects. "But she was worried about Jasper…his mom is out of town again."

"Oh." I slide in to the passenger seat and contemplate telling my parents, then decide against it. Emmett will be there, after all. As he packs my bags into the trunk, I notice a small cooler in the backseat, along with a paper bag full of snacks.

"You're prepared," I say as he climbs into the car and he smiles. I snatch a ratty Angels baseball cap off the cooler and switch out of my usual beanie. "Do you mind?"

"It's yours," he says, tipping the brim of the cap into my eyes.

The drive up north takes about six hours with the way Edward drives, even accounting for the L.A. traffic. We sort of take turns driving, meaning he lets me drive for only an hour on the most boring stretch of the 5 freeway. Finally he gets tired of me going the seventy miles per hour speed limit and takes over again. We hold hands most of the way, listen to a lot of seventies and eighties music that I grew up on, thanks to Renee, and chat about our futures.

"So, do you think you might go to Cal like Emmett?" I ask during a lull in our conversation.

"I'm not sure," he answers, looking straight ahead at the highway in front of us. "I used to want to."

"I guess that's what this trip is for, right?"

"Yes, love."

"When do you hear back?"

"In a few months." In a few months I'll find out how far away he'll be from me. Although I suppose it will only be for a year, assuming I follow him to the same college. Would I even _want_ to do that? We've only known each other for four months. Would we still be together? Would I still be…alive? My throat constricts and I shake off the last thought. That's the purpose of this trip, too, I remind myself firmly. I am going to get better and I'm going to go to college after I graduate.

"So…where else have you applied?" I ask, trying to keep my mind occupied.

He hesitates. "Uh…some of the Cal States, UCLA, UCI, San Diego. Stanford—though Emmett was against that one."

"That's it?" I ask, surprised.

"Also Harvard, Yale and Dartmouth," he continues. Okay…all schools I couldn't get into even if I tried.

"Have you heard back from any of them?"

He hesitates again and I turn down the volume on the radio so that I can hear him clearly. "Um…just Dartmouth since I applied early admission. I…I've been accepted."

Dartmouth. New Hampshire. I can't imagine living that far away from my parents, especially if I still am going through chemo. I'm not even sure if I'll have to postpone college for a year or two, or just go part time. In reality, it may even be better for me to go to one of the local community colleges first. I won't be graduating for another year and a half and I can't imagine what my life would be like by then.

"So…why Dartmouth?" I ask finally.

"My parents went there. It's where they met," he says simply. I don't have to ask him if he means his biological parents. I can tell by the tone of his voice who he means.

-0-

Shortly after nine, Edward pulls off the freeway and we drive through the busy streets of Berkeley. I expect to pull up closer to the campus since Emmett lives in the dorms, but Edward turns in the other direction and pulls into a small Victorian bed and breakfast. Rose bushes of various colors surround the property, perfuming the misty air of the Bay Area.

I rub my eyes groggily, having slept throughout the last leg of our trip, only waking with the slowing motions of the car as Edward exited the freeway. "What are we doing here, Edward?"

"Bella, you're still recovering from chemo. You didn't think I'd let you sleep on the floor of Emmett's dorm room, did you?" I didn't really think about that part—that Edward, Alice and I couldn't possibly fit in the cramped quarters that their brother shared with another student.

"There are two beds," he adds quickly when I haven't responded. "You can have the big one that you and Ali were supposed to share."

The room is located on the third floor and a woman with purple streaked hair and matching peasant skirt welcomes us immediately. She directs us quickly upstairs and lets us know what time breakfast will be ready before discretely leaving us to ourselves. Edward sets down our bags, placing my duffle on the queen size bed and his on the small twin in the corner. There is an intricate flower pattern on the wallpaper that matches the bedspreads. A dark stained wooden desk sits in a corner on one side of a stained glass window that is flanked by a matching armoire.

The tension is palpable and Edward breaks the silence first. "I'm sorry, Bella. Would you rather stay with my brother? I could call him. I need to tell him we've arrived anyway."

"No, it's okay," I answer truthfully. "Thank you for thinking of me." I start to open my duffle to grab my toiletry bag when something occurs to me. "He's not expecting us to hang out tonight, is he? I'm kind of tired," I admit.

"No. We'll meet up with him in the morning. Why don't you use the bathroom first?"

I eventually decide to bring my whole duffle bag with me to the bathroom, too embarrassed to pull out my pajamas and underwear in front of him. It's ridiculous, I know, but I blush anyway as I slide the wooden door closed.

-0-

Emmett meets us on campus rather than at his dorm room. Even though I've only met him a couple of times, he scoops me up in a hug as soon as we walk up, my legs and wig flying around me in a twirl. I hold onto the brim of my hat to make sure it doesn't fly off.

"Good to see you too, Emmett," I laugh.

"Glad you could make it up, B," he says, shortening my name even further. "I see you took Edward's Angels cap…he's pretty possessive of it, ya know."

"It's mine now, actually," I say as casually as possible. I turn to face Edward and he's smiling as he leans in to hug his brother as well.

We walk around campus and he chats easily about the various myths surrounding certain buildings and statues. Edward is the most relaxed I've ever seen him.

"Glad you could finally make it up here, bro," Emmett says to Edward as we walk back towards his dorm. "Mom and Dad finally let you, huh?" Edward rolls his eyes in response. "Maybe they thought Ali would take care of you…"

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," Edward responds. Emmett laughs off his brother's glare.

"So, B, how's Rosie doing?" I give Emmett a questioning look before answering. I know that he and Rose hung out in Vail over break with Alice and Edward, and also after the rest of the Cullens left and only Esme and Emmett remained. I didn't know that he called her _Rosie_. She _hates_ that nickname and nobody calls her that. Nobody.

"She's good," I answer evasively. Though I know that Edward knows her history with Royce, I am unsure how much he—or she—has divulged to Emmett.

"Still keeping the boys at bay?"

I laugh. "Yes. She's actually getting along great with her mom, for once. And I think she's just done for now, ya know?"

"That's what she gets for doing those long term relationships," he jokes. "Now she's done." He's teasing tone clues me in that perhaps he doesn't know the details of her last relationship. I wonder for a moment if he's interested in my pretty blonde friend, but then I remember that he recently started dating someone. Someone for longer than his previous weeklong relationships.

As if on cue, we make it to Emmett's room, where a pale, dark-haired girl is waiting for us. "Emmett," she calls out. "And you must be Bella and Edward." She has a slight accent that I can't place—Russian? Polish?—and she air kisses us both quickly on each cheek.

"This is my friend, Irina," Emmett says politely. Huh. Friend. I guess I can't question the status of their relationship, given the vagueness that surrounded most of Edward's and mine, courtesy of me, of course.

Irina is very sweet and we spend the rest of the day climbing in and out of her cramped little car and exploring all of the touristy spots in San Francisco. When Edward offers to drive his car instead—or as well—we are admonished by them both for 'wasting finite resources'. We quickly find out that Irina's car is easier to park in the endless hills of the city.

Irina unpacks us a picnic lunch—all vegetarian—and we lounge about at Golden Gate Park, just outside the conservatory. They opt to people watch and sunbathe in the rare warmth of the city as Edward and I explore the various flowers and plants inside the conservatory. He pulls me towards him in a soft kiss near one of the smaller trees where we are slightly apart from the other visitors. I welcome his warm lips on mine, wanting selfishly to be alone. For a moment, I imagine us living here, up in the Bay Area together, visiting the city in between classes. That moment is broken, however, when I remember that we have at least a year apart. He pulls away from me at my sudden hesitancy, moss green eyes searching my own.

"What is it, love?"

"Nothing," I say, looking down at the ground. For once, he leaves me to my noncommittal answer, not pushing for more answers. Instead, he slips his hand in mine and we wander through the rest of the conservatory to meet up with Emmett and Irina.

-0-

I watch Edward's back and the slow rise and fall of his breaths, trying to determine if he has fallen asleep or not. Suddenly I decide that it doesn't matter if I wake him or not. I get up from my bed and then quickly slide into his behind him before I lose my nerve. I scoot into his back and snuggle up against him, with his back against my chest, and place my arm around his waist. He is warm and I sigh at the scent of him so close to me, his bare upper half pressed against me.

"Bella," he says softly, indicating that he is, in fact, still awake. "What are you doing?"

_I'm cold_, I almost say, but then realize how ridiculous it sounds. "I just wanted to be close to you," I say instead, wanting more than anything to be truthful.

He sighs, and places his arm on mine, rubbing gently. "So you squeeze in next to me on the small bed?" he teases. His voice is low and husky in the dark night.

"You wouldn't come to my bed," I tease back.

"You didn't ask me to."

"Do I have to ask?"

"Well…I didn't want to assume…that just because…" I giggle at his nervous tone, then kiss him lightly on his shoulder. He hums happily so I continue to place my lips gently all over his upper back.

Suddenly he turns over to face me and pulls me in even closer, if that's possible. He kisses me deeply, our hands roaming, soft sounds filling our room. When I skim the top of his boxers with one of my hands, he brings one of his to still it.

"Um, Bella," he begins awkwardly. I brace myself for his rejection. I'm not even sure why I'm being so forward. I just wanted to sleep next to him.

"It's okay, Edward," I say, starting to get up from the bed.

"Wait. Stay," he pleads, pulling me back towards him. "It's just…I know this isn't your first time, but I don't really want _our_ first time together to be at some random hotel."

"It doesn't matter." I know my words can be interpreted to mean several different things, but I purposefully do not clarify. I do, however, snuggle back into his warmth.

"We don't even have any protection…" He has a point. The last thing I need is to get pregnant with my leukemia, while going through chemo. Although I'm not even sure if I _could_ get pregnant, I'm not willing to risk it.

"Okay," I say. "Maybe I should go back to my bed?" I climb out of the smaller bed, and surprisingly Edward follows me to the larger one. "What are you doing, Edward?"

"I just want to be close to you," he smirks, using my earlier words. He encloses me in his arms again and begins to kiss my neck. The wetness tickles and feels good at the same time. "Just because we can't have sex," he continues, "doesn't mean we can't do…um…other things." I laugh and kiss him back happily.

-0-

In the early hours of the morning, just before dawn, I sneak out of Edward's arms. We are tangled together so I move an inch at a time, not wanting to disturb him. The past few nights I have slept better than I have since being diagnosed, feeling safe and secure with Edward.

My dreams have been vivid, yet devoid of much action or coherency. The stark bright green that I associate with my childhood in Washington. The feeling of bathing underneath a large, cold waterfall. Holding someone's hand while walking barefoot on damp sand on the beach. The image of white doves circling endless copper blue skies, no clouds in sight.

After using the bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror before me. The lights are fluorescent yellow, making my pale skin look even more sallow, but I don't have the purplish rings underneath my eyes, and my cheeks are looking slightly fuller. My peach fuzz on my scalp has hints of the chestnut color of my regular hair, and I wonder how long it will be before this round falls out. I also wonder how I am lucky enough to have a boyfriend who doesn't mind the baldness. Or the sickness. Or the hospitalizations. Yet, Edward and I would likely never have met if I didn't have leukemia. What are the odds of us being at the hospital at the same time?

I think of him lying in bed, just beyond the wooden sliding door, and realize that I need to get rid of my morning breath before crawling back under the covers with him. At least I have control over that aspect of my life. Except my toiletry bag is in my duffle. I grab my toothbrush that I left in one of the glass cups, and lay it on the counter while I unzip Edward's toiletry bag to search for toothpaste. As I open the bag, I accidentally jostle it with my other hand, and half of the contents spill out onto the counter. Toothpaste, toothbrush holder, a razor, and half a dozen individually wrapped needles.

_What the hell is he doing with so many needles?_ My mind whirls and races as I drop the bag on the counter next to his belongings. I think back to seeing Garrett, sprawled out in his deserted old house, used needles surrounding his body. But, Edward was helping him. And I know that he's not a drug addict. Don't I?

I listen carefully to see if Edward has woken up yet, but I hear no sounds coming from the room. On the other side of the counter is the small cooler that he packed for our road trip. He's been dutifully filling it with ice all weekend, cursing the lack of a mini fridge in our room. I snap the rotating lid off and peek inside the cooler. Slightly floating in the melting ice is a ziplock bag sealed with small glass bottles. Insulin. Edward has diabetes.

_Edward_ has diabetes.

I think back to all of our interactions—this must be the reason for his frequent hospitalizations. But why hasn't he been hospitalized since I met him? Why hasn't he told me?

I storm out of the bathroom, sliding the wooden door loudly, not caring for the moment whether or not Edward is awake yet. The room is still dark, only hints of light coming through the opaque stained glass windows. The pale colors of the diamond-shaped panels create prisms throughout the room, illuminating it slightly.

Edward is lying on his back, still shirtless with one arm over his forehead. He shifts slightly in his sleep, his other arm reaching out towards my empty spot as he murmurs my name. He looks peaceful. Vulnerable. My anger dissipates mostly into disappointment. Does he not trust me enough to tell me about his diabetes? I have told him all about my fears facing my leukemia. He has seen me since the beginning. Yet, he has told me nothing.

"I don't know you at all," I say to his sleeping form as I sit down on the edge of the bed next to him.

"What?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. "Bella?"

His green eyes are piercing, even in the minimal light, and I look at him calmly as I simply say, " You have needles in the bathroom, Edward."

"What?" he says, slightly disoriented still. He sits up suddenly, taking one of my hands in his almost as if he is afraid that I'm going to run. Where am I going to go? He's my ride home. "It's not what you think."

"I know," I say, trying hard to blink back the tears of my disappointment. I wish the anger would return but it doesn't, at least for now. "You have diabetes, Edward," I add before he can explain.

"Bella—"

"And you never told me."

"I know," he starts. "I'm sorry. I meant to…so many times—"

There's so much I want to ask him, but, truthfully, I'm unsure if I am ready to hear the answers. His excuses.

"We should get going," I say, trying to change the subject.

"Let me explain first, love."

I glare at him at the term of endearment. He's called me that for so long, but what does it mean? Do you hide something this big from someone you love? That's my quandary…maybe he doesn't feel the same way about me as I do about him. Maybe I've been misreading him all along. He's been here for me, but is this more than friendship? Was it simply the chase for him? Because I wasn't available? It's too much for me to process so quickly—and in his presence—and all I want is to go home.

"You said you wanted an early start," I counter. I rise from the bed and grab my duffle bag, then hightail it back to the bathroom for a quick shower. When I'm done, I notice that Edward is already dressed with his bag packed by the door. He talks to me as I re-pack my own bag, but I don't respond to his words. Yup, the anger is back.

"Bella, I didn't mean to…lie to you," he stumbles over the word, as if he hates to admit that what he did was essentially lie to me. In the shower, I had thought about our interactions, and the moments in which he may have been trying to tell me something more. Once in the hospital. At Maddie's birthday party. Maybe even after she died. I had interrupted him every time. But does that justify him still not telling me? I didn't want to know that he was dying. And he isn't.

"Bella, would you look at me, at least?" I shake my head gently as I continue to pack and then make the beds, for lack of anything else to occupy myself. "I tried to tell you so many times. But, how could this compare to what you're going through?"

He begins to tell me how he was diagnosed when he was nine, how Esme thought he had a stomach bug when he kept throwing up, then he became unresponsive and was taken to the ICU. How he's been in and out of the hospital more than other kids with diabetes because he was in denial. How he wouldn't take his insulin, or wouldn't follow the diet. How bitter he was that he had to even deal with all of it in the first place. How he didn't care about taking care of himself until he met me. He says the last part as he gingerly sits next to me on the edge of the bed, while I look straight ahead, studying the flower pattern on the wallpaper and the reflection of the rising sun on the colorful glass panes.

Finally I say, "I can't really talk about this right now, Edward."

"Then when?" he asks, his voice rising slightly with a hint of anger. "Don't keep closing off to me, love."

"Don't call me that," I retort. "I just need…time. Let's just go." I grab my duffle bag and open the door to leave, knowing that he will follow me to the car. In the quiet mist of the breaking dawn, we pack his car quickly, our mutual silence speaking volumes.


	16. Chapter 15: Matters of the Heart

**A/N:** The italicized portions throughout this chapter are lyrics from Tracy Chapman's "Matters of the Heart". I wrote this chapter very early on in the story (summer/fall 2009), so I sort of led the rest of the story here. There's more discussion to come, I promise. Would I write this differently now? Probably...but here it is anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

**Matters of the Heart**

_I lose my head  
>From time to time<em>

Edward starts the car in silence and I glare at the road in front of me. I don't even open up the map to help figure out the fastest way back to the freeway. I'm not breaking the silence first. I'm not the one who has been keeping secrets. Who is this person next to me, anyway? Did I even know him at all?

I look the other way to hide the twitching of my lips as he orders me a vanilla latte and bottled water in addition to his own black coffee at a drive through cafe. He hands me my coffee wordlessly. I take a sip of the water and don't offer him one as well.

_I make a fool of myself  
>In matters of the heart<br>_

He planned this whole trip out, from making me believe that Alice was going too, to making reservations at the bed and breakfast. Even Emmett's girlfriend knew that we weren't staying with him.

He planned the picnic at the conservatory too. And the sunset. And the kiss?

Why does he always have to be in control?

_We should have been holding each other  
>Instead we talked<em>

After we kissed, Edward didn't pull me close to him, even with the chill and fog of the bay creeping in. Instead we held hands, letting the current run through our interlaced fingers. Instead we talked. About everything and nothing. Except my cancer. Except us.

_I make a fool of myself  
>In matters of the heart<br>_

What _were_ we to each other? What _are_ we to each other?

A lifeline?

The end of the rope?

Except I'm not dying.

I. Am. Not. Dying.

_But I asked before  
>Your reply was kind and polite<em>

_Edward, do you have cancer?_ I had asked him that night at the hospital when we first met. No. He made up some excuse about his knee surgery, which he _technically_ had had two. Is hiding something _technically_ lying?

I pride myself in being able to figure people out, in getting to know their character. It's what I love best about literature—distilling the details into the essence of the person. How could I not have realized that Edward is a "chronic" patient like me? I was looking but not looking. He knows a lot of the nurses, he knew Angela when she was a resident, he knows the hospital like the back of his hand. He even is friendly with most of the security guards.

He was never hospitalized this year except for during my first admission. He's been taking care of himself since he was nine. Or, not taking care of himself. At least taking care of himself this year—wasn't that what Emmett said? That he wasn't surprised their parents finally let him visit since he was doing so well?

_One wants more  
>When one's denied<br>_

Maybe he never meant to tell me at all. Maybe all he planned was the nights together. Maybe that's all he wanted.

_I make a fool of myself  
>In matters of the heart<br>_

Except I offered, and he resisted. I blush at the memory of his skin on my skin.

_I won't call it love  
>But it feels good to have passion in my life<em>

Except I _would _call it love. Is that what I _was_ feeling? _Am_ feeling? Is that what the crushing, burning feeling in my heart is?

_If there's a battle  
>I hope my head always defers to my heart<br>In matters of the heart  
><em>

Edward pulls over at a rest stop, and glances surreptitiously at me with a smirk. After the vanilla latte _and_ the water, I am grateful. He's done before I am and waits, leaning against the side of his silver car.

I reach up on my tiptoes and he instinctively leans down towards me. I grab his Angels baseball cap off his head, releasing his messy hair. The sunlight streams through his always unruly bronze locks and I resist the urge to run my fingers through them.

"I thought this was mine," I say, breaking the silence of the past few hours. "I'm not giving it back." I have already given him my heart. Shouldn't I get something in return?

"I wasn't expecting you to."

_I guess I'm crazy to think  
>I can give you what you don't want<br>I make a fool of myself  
>In matters of the heart<em>

Edward walks over to the passenger side to open the door for me, then we're on the road again. This leg of the ride, I am mostly quiet—no longer giving him the silent treatment, but lost in my thoughts.

I take the scarf off my head, and wear his hat instead. Usually I would do that in private since I'm not wearing the wig, but I figure he's seen the growing out stages of my hair already anyway.

"I miss my long hair," I say.

"I know, I do too."

"The wig is uncomfortable," I add.

"You don't need a wig. You look beautiful, regardless," he murmurs.

He's trying to make things up to me, but he doesn't know how. He doesn't tell me anything about himself, not really. He doesn't make the feeling that I never knew him at all go away. Instead, he buys me coffee, he drives the whole way home, he politely opens doors for me and feeds me compliments. He holds me at arm's length away. Close, but not close enough.

Friends. I can accept that. I have to accept that. I can't imagine him not in my life at all. Friends.

_I wish that I had the power_  
><em>To make these feelings stop<em>  
><em>I lose all self control<em>  
><em>In matters of the heart<em>

No benefits, though. Even as inexperienced as I am with relationships, even I know that it would be harder on my already broken heart.

I love him.

How can you love someone you don't really know?

How can you _not_ love someone you know so well?

_I can't believe  
>It's so hard to find someone<br>To give affection to  
>And from whom you can receive<em>

I quietly reach out and place my hand on top of his right hand that is resting on his thigh. He stops drumming his fingers as the heat from my hand reaches his. Sparks every time.

_I guess it's just the draw of the cards  
>In matters of the heart<br>_

For our last stop before we reach home, we pull over at In-N-Out. I indulge in a vanilla shake along with my cheeseburger and fries. I've lost ten pounds with chemo. I figure I deserve a break.

Instead of talking about what happened this morning, we make up stories about the other travelers at the rest stop.

"That family is on their way to Bass Lake. It's their annual vacation and the kids each got to bring their best friends with them this year," I say.

"Those guys are going camping in Yosemite," he says, pointing at two guys in flannel shirts. "Maybe they'll climb half Dome."

"This family over here is going to Disneyland for the first time. They've been saving up all year."

"This guy," Edward starts, pointing at guy in the corner who is texting furiously as he quickly eats his meal. "He's a truck driver who's been driving for days. He's hurrying to get back to the love of his life."

I can't take the not-so-silent silence any longer so I throw out the rest of my food and head back to the car.

_You caught me off guard  
>Somehow you reached me<br>Where I thought I had nothing left inside_

When we get back to the car, I do not try to hold his hand.

_I've learned my lesson I've been edified  
>In matters of the heart<br>_

Denial. We're both in denial. We're pretending still. If I really cared, wouldn't I fight for this? Wouldn't my fear of rejection mean nothing? Or am I willing to leave things be so I can have him like this? However willing he is to give himself to me.

If I mean anything to him, wouldn't he fight for me?

_I've spent my nights  
>Where the sleeping dogs lie<br>Not by your side  
>It feels so lonely<br>Once again I've left too much to chance  
>In matters of the heart<em>

I drift off to sleep with the steadiness of Edward's driving.

_Here I sit_  
><em>I'm feeling sorry for myself<em>  
><em>It's quite a sight<em>

He doesn't need to fight for me because he doesn't love me. You don't need to fight for friends.

_But I have you to thank  
>For reminding me<br>We're all alone in this world  
>And in matters of the heart<br>_

In between my sleeping breaths, I drift in and out of consciousness. I am tilted slightly back in the passenger seat with my hands interlaced together on top of my stomach. At some point, I can feel the warmth of Edward's hand covering both of mine.

_I love you. _I sigh.

_I'm already missing you  
>Although we won't say good byes<br>Until tomorrow afternoon  
>Maybe when and if I see you again<br>We'll see eye to eye  
>In matters of the heart<br>_

"Bella, are you awake?" I feel him stroke his thumb across my hands.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. I wasn't trying to lie to you. I should have told you sooner."

_I have no harsh words for you  
>I have no tears to cry<em>

"You know me better than anyone," he whispers. I catch words and phrases in my sleep. I'm not sure if I'm dreaming or awake.

"I'm sorry we just left this morning without talking about it.

"I was afraid."

_If the moon were full  
>I'd be howling inside<br>It only hurts  
>In matters of the heart<em>

"Bella, I didn't tell you because it doesn't matter. It doesn't _define _me."

_If today were my birthday  
>I'd be reborn<br>_

My leukemia doesn't define me either. I have been in and out of the hospital or clinic for the past four months. Edward has been doing this for nine years. Nine years.

"You define me. No, that's not right. I feel like I didn't know myself before I met you.

"_This—_whatever we have between us—this defines me now."

_As bronte's bird a bird that could fly  
>And all accounts would be settled<br>In matters of the heart_

"Bella, I love you."

_Matters of the heart_

I love you too, Edward.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ** Like I said, there will be more discussion in the next chapter...

I don't do playlists but obviously Tracy Chapman's song influenced this chapter. What fanfiction do you think incorporates music or playlists well?


	17. Chapter 16: Luminescence

**Chapter 16**

**Luminescence**

The drive to Orange County seems like it's over before it even begins. The whole morning feels draining as I try to sort through my thoughts and feelings. Edward pulls up to my driveway and I groggily look around me as I wake up from the last leg of our road trip. The sun is shining brightly above us, causing me to squint even more at the familiar house in front of me. With our early start, it's barely past noon when we arrive. I crank the passenger seat forward into an upright position and grab Edward's baseball hat to place on my head.

He sits very still next to me after turning off the engine. "Um…I know it's early but I didn't know if you wanted to come here or to my house…"

"It's fine," I say, tiredly.

"I…I think we still have a lot to talk about," he responds, reaching for one of my hands tentatively.

Despite his words, we sit in silence outside my house for a few moments before I turn to him. "Edward, I…"

"Bella, I'm…" he starts out at the same time. I have no idea what I want to say yet. I feel…angry, betrayed in a sense, but do I really have to know everything about him? We've known each other for several months, technically we are dating, but he doesn't know everything about me either, not by a long shot.

_But he knows about my leukemia. Is this a lie by omission? Why wouldn't he want me to know?_

"I think I need a little time, Edward," I continue when he nods to let me go first. "I should go." I turn to get out of the car but he grabs onto my left wrist. His deep green eyes search back and forth for something in mine.

"Bella, wait," he says. "Can we talk about this?"

"I need to catch up with my parents first," I say after a moment. What else can I say? I want to think things over before doing something I'll regret. I love him. I know I do. But does he feel the same way?

"Okay. Can I come over later, then?"

"Maybe...uh, can I go to your place instead?" I respond, wanting to have my own transportation, wanting to be able to leave on my own terms if I need to. "After dinner?"

Edward nods his head in agreement and carries my bags up to the porch for me. "Bye, love," he says and reaches back over to hug me quickly before getting back into his car. I feel the heat dissipate from his touch as he drives away.

-0-

In the end I don't see Edward later that day or the rest of the week. When I walk in the door, my mom is sitting in the living room, rubbing her eyes furiously as tears stream down her face. There are photo albums scattered all around the couch and coffee table and a few shoeboxes with letters spilling out of them in an orderly disorder.

"Mom?" I call softly to her, making her aware of my presence.

"Oh, honey?" she responds, sitting up quickly at the sound of my voice.

"What's wrong?" I ask, and she shakes her head. "Okay…what's going on then?"

"I'm just re-organizing the photo albums, Bella." She gestures to the albums around her. It reminds me of the day she was flipping through the pictures to share with Maddie when she was in the hospital.

"Mom, I'm getting better you know," I say tentatively. "My chances are great for remission."

She nods her head slowly but doesn't look me directly in the eyes. I sit down and wrap my arms around her in reassurance. It is then that I notice that the top of the stack of letters is addressed to my mom in my dad's messy script. Love letters.

-0-

_I'm sorry. _

I know.

_You're sorry too._

I know.

_Can we talk?_

Can we talk _in person_?

-0-

Edward and I text back and forth throughout the week. When he calls I don't answer. It's childish, I know, but I want to talk to him in person and I want to know what I'm going to say, or how I'm going to react before we talk. It's impossible, I know.

Maybe we should have talked about it all when we were in Berkeley or on the drive home but I feel as if I was too angry. I feel betrayed, in a way, but he doesn't owe me anything. Somehow I wonder why he didn't confide in me and let me know that he_ does _know what I've been going through these past months.

Alice calls and texts me a few times, mostly saying that she won't interfere, but that she wants us to be friends, regardless of what happens. I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear her message. I don't want to deal with losing her too. Or Jasper. Or Emmett. Or Carlisle and Esme. I don't want to lose Edward at all, nor do I want to deal with other people meddling in our relationship. Surprisingly my mom has not noticed me moping around the house. Ever since I came back from Berkeley she seems…preoccupied with something or other. I thought that maybe she was worried about me, especially since she seems to be spending most of her free time with Tammy or talking to her on the phone, but then I wonder if her concerns have nothing to do with me at all.

I read through my journal that Edward gave me and text him bits and pieces of my writing and other peoples' lines of poetry. Sometimes he answers, mostly not. He's waiting for me, like he always has been in our relationship.

I question everything. I question why he would hide something from me right away—after all, we _did_ meet at the hospital. I question why he tried so many times to tell me, and why he didn't insist when I stopped him, and why I stopped him in the first place. Did I somehow _know_ yet didn't _want_ to know? I question why I haven't been able to figure this all out sooner. I question what he sees in me. I question why he would want to be with someone who is possibly dying, why he would want to be with me when I keep pushing him away. I question every moment, every soft kiss, every touch.

I never question _my_ feelings for _him_.

I peek out through my curtains and notice a tiny sliver of moon, which reminds me of the first time I went to Edward's house. On our perfect first date. The sky is dark with just the slightest bit of luminescence from the moon and a few stars bursting through the metropolitan smog.

_The new moon is the starting over of us._

-0-

Midway through the week, Edward calls three times in a row on my cell phone. My mom absentmindedly hands me the phone as she sniffs back her tears. We're on round two of watching classic Hollywood romantic movies, none with your typical happy endings. It's the final scene of _Casablanca_, the same movie that I watched with Edward on the night of our makeshift Homecoming dance at the hospital. Whenever she's not at work or with Tammy, we have been popping in a new movie. I've been watching with her while doing my homework, unsure why she seems to need more bonding time together.

I pick up my phone just as it goes to voice mail, murmuring a quiet apology to my mom for not picking it up sooner. She is completely engrossed in the movie so I bring the phone up to my room to listen to Edward's message on my own.

Instead of his velvety smooth voice, I hear silence then the soft notes of a piano being played. The tinkling of the melody starts off quiet and sweet, almost a lullaby, then changes its tempo to something louder and faster.

The pitter patter of rain drops falling slowly and rhythmically on a roof top. The swishing crescendo and quick decrescendo of the Santa Ana winds. The loud pounding of the surf down at Newport. And then the downpour of a rare southern California storm when the individual taps of rain turn into an amalgamation of staccato beats. The breaking up of a relationship.

Except we haven't broken up. We're not even on a break. We're on a…hiatus…a pause…a nothing. I don't know where we're at because I've been too busy shutting him down to actually figure things out. I told him I needed time to process things and he's given me that. It seems like I'm always asking him for time, always afraid to face my fears, always pushing him as far away as possible as I run in the opposite direction.

Why does _anyone_ run away?

When they have nothing to go home to.

Me? I have everything. I have him.

-0-

Angela meets me in the clinic that week and I tell her all about the weekend in Berkeley.

"Wait," she says. "You mean you didn't know about his diabetes?"

"No. And you could have told me," I retort and immediately regret it. It's not as if I ever asked. It's not as if it's any of my business.

"Bella," Angela admonishes me. "You know I can't say anything."

"I know."

"So…you're mad at him."

"Yeah. No. I just…feel like he didn't trust me."

"Bella, did you ever stop to think that he might feel…ashamed?"

I contemplate her statement for a long moment. I know I'm making her late for her other patients but I can't bring myself to care. "We haven't talked about it much," I admit. "But why should he feel ashamed? He didn't ask for his diabetes, any more than I asked for any of this." I wave my hand at my mostly bald scalp and my penciled in eyebrows.

"He shouldn't feel ashamed," she answers. "And neither should you. But, have you ever refused your chemo?"

"Why…" I start to refute her question and then pause to think about it longer. At the bed and breakfast in Berkeley, Edward told me all about when he first found out he had diabetes, and how terrified Carlisle and Esme were when he was in the ICU. How Carlisle blamed himself for not realizing how sick Edward was in the first place. How, during his recent years of rebellion, he didn't pay much attention to taking his medications. It dawns on me then what everyone was trying to tell me. Edward isn't the same person anymore. And neither am I.

"Bella," Angela continues when she sees that I am at a loss for words. "You know when my worse day of residency was?"

I shake my head at her rhetorical question.

"Two years ago in the ICU, on my last call night as a resident. I had just gone down to the call room, hoping to sleep for a bit before checking on my patients before morning rounds. I got a call from the ER; they were wheeling over a patient for me as I was on the phone.

"_This_ patient was dying, Bella. He…well, he had leukemia, just like you, just like my sister. But, _unlike_ you, he was high risk…a bit older than you, a different type of leukemia, and also…um, he had cancer cells in his spinal fluid, in the brain. He…he spent the last month of his life in the ICU. That night was one of the last ones in which he was awake and alert, truly alive.

After I admitted him, we coded another patient, a baby with complicated heart problems. She didn't make it. Then I admitted another patient, a teen with uncontrolled diabetes in DKA."

She never mentions Edward by name but she continues to tell me her story, explaining the medical terms as she goes. Diabetic ketoacidosis. Blood sugar levels in the hundreds. Dehydration, vomiting, confusion. His coma-like state. Her anger at having to deal with his near death, not because of his diabetes, but because of his refusal to take care of himself.

The images from Angela's story keep repeating in my mind. I picture Edward lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV, looking even paler than me. Her words have the effect I am sure she wanted.

_Edward_ could have died. And it would have been at his own hand. Of course he couldn't tell me that when I myself was dying.

I leave the clinic, grateful that I had driven myself for once, and head towards the coast. In my haste to get to Edward, I forget to account for rush hour traffic. Hell, I don't even know if he is at his house. I call twice—okay, three times—but his voice mail picks up immediately each time. While sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I nervously text Alice that I'm on my way.

_Don't worry, Bella. He's home. I can hear him blasting emo music through the walls. -A_

I smile at her message while tapping on my brakes.

_Can you tell him I'm coming by? -B_

_Will do. -A_

My ancient truck creeps past the science museum near the hospital and onto the freeway, past the other single drivers caterpillaring forward inch by inch on the crowded non-carpool lanes. The sun sets and the sky is a dusky grey with multitudes of red tail lights blinking back at me. The concrete jungle continues the entire way to the coast, where the freeway ends in side streets. I finally turn onto PCH an hour later as my anxiety level rises. _How many times can I mess up before he doesn't forgive me?_

I parallel park my truck slowly, careful not to bump the much younger and more expensive cars parked on Edward's street, and then practically sprint up the walkway. Alice flings the door open as I reach the top step.

"He's upstairs," she says after giving me a quick hug.

I nod. "What did he say when you told him I was coming over?"

"I didn't tell him," she says, in an almost sing-song manner. I return her smile with a glare.

"What do you mean you didn't tell him I was coming?" I ask.

"It'll go over better this way, Bella. Trust me."

Great. He probably will slam the door in my face. I shake this thought away. Maybe I deserve it. What am I thinking? This is Edward. _Edward_. He'd _never_ do that, even if I have figuratively done that to him.

Alice gestures me over to the stairs impatiently, and I am reminded of the first time I came to his house…our first date. He hardly knew me then but still he was understanding of my post chemo nausea. I fiddle with the brim of my hat—_his_ baseball cap—as I climb the stairs. It hits me all of a sudden…something I've known all along but have been denying. Edward has found the six different ways inside my heart, and he's here to stay. Through my cancer, through my possible death, through my pushing him away. He's been breaking down my walls all along. Shouldn't I be there for him too? Unconditionally?

I run up the last few steps, and then tap lightly at the door.

"Leave me alone, Alice," Edward says loudly, above the din of music vibrating through his door.

"Um, it's me, Edward," I say after opening the door. Edward is slumped on his bed, lying face up with his eyes closed. He's dressed in loose jeans and a black Beastie Boys tee shirt with his stomach slightly exposed. I walk slowly over to him and repeat myself once I get to the edge of his bed, uncertain if he heard me the first time.

As soon as I start speaking, his eyes snap open, seaweed green flashing before me. He sits up suddenly on the bed saying, "You're here."

"I'm here," I repeat back, wondering if he can hear me over the music or if he can only read my lips. "I called you-" I start.

"I turned off my phone, " he interrupts in explanation. "I kept checking to see if you called this week and you never did. It was driving me crazy."

"I'm sorry," I say. "For everything."

"You're here." He shrugs his shoulders in forgiveness but I know it's not enough. He's saying that I am _here_ with him, I'm willing to try. I stand awkwardly by his bed and he reaches over suddenly to engulf me in a hug before he repeats himself again.

I finally manage a small laugh as he grips me tightly. His sandalwood, vanilla, all Edward smell surrounds me. I can't explain the feeling except that it just feels _right_.

Edward releases me and we smile goofily at each other. He interlaces his fingers with mine and leads me to the couch in his room. We sit side by side but facing each other and he does not let go of my hand for the entire conversation.

"Edward, I'm sorry—" I start.

"No, Bella, _I'm_ sorry. I should have told you sooner, that day in the teen room when we first met."

"Edward," I say slowly. "Edward, you almost died." His fingers are dangling over my own, still touching, still tingling in their proximity. His movements stop at my words and he looks straight into my eyes.

"Twice," he replies lowly. He's embarrassed.

"Twice?" I repeat. "Angela only told me about the last time."

He nods his head in agreement, seeming to know exactly what I'm talking about. "The first time was when I was first diagnosed…if my mom hadn't brought me in that day…" He stops, unable to articulate his thoughts and I nod in response. I know all too well what he must have been feeling.

"It was scary," he continues. "And my mom—Esme—hardly left my side. She kept crying…I know she was thinking about her sister, my actual mom. She kept saying that she couldn't lose me too.

"We made a game of it at first…figuring everything out. It wasn't so bad. When I got older, I started hiding it more. We switched my insulin to longer acting ones so I could do my shots at home. I stopped checking my sugars at school…then stopped caring altogether."

We talk. Edward tells me about his hospitalizations, about his loneliness, about his denial of being sick. He laughs harshly at himself. "You know I always thought I was _different_? Not because of my diabetes…but because I'm not really from here…and Esme and Carlisle aren't really my parents…and just…a bunch of stupid stuff really." I nod my head slowly, uncertain where he's going with his ramblings.

"It turns out," he continues. "That I'm just like everyone else. Well, any other teen who thinks he's invincible."

I want to interrupt him but it's not the right time. I want to tell him that he _is_ different but not for the reasons he's stated. He doesn't see what I see, just like I don't see what he sees in me. But I'm starting to.

"Then I met you," he says. "And I realized that I'm not invincible. That I was _killing_ myself. That I could die." I place my other hand over our clasped hands and gaze directly into his eyes. He is so earnest and sincere and this, _this_ is the conversation we should have had last week, or last month, or that very first night in the hospital.

"Edward," I respond when he is done. "We'll get through this together." It is what he is always saying to me.

Since I've missed dinner, we sneak hot chocolate and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from the kitchen and then hang out for the rest of the night playing video games back in his room. It is like our first night together in the teen room—sneaky looks, small confessions, sparks and laughter. There is no cast, there is no IV pole, there is no fear. But there is love. And honesty. And forgiveness.

And, just like that first night, there are tears, but these are tears of happiness not sorrow. Edward tosses a game controller in my lap in challenge. "Let's see how much you've learned, Swan," he says with a smirk. This time he doesn't even have to _let_ me win; I earn that right on my own.

When I leave, Edward walks me to my truck even though I'm parked right in front of his house. We both glance back at the darkened windows of the house, and then he leans in to press his lips against mine. His tongue tangles with mine slowly; I can feel the tingling all over. He laughs as he realizes that I'm smiling into our kisses and places his Angels cap back on my head, adjusting it so it is perfect.

"I love you, Bella," he says softly.

"I love you, too," I respond, happy to say the words out loud for the first time.

There is no traffic on my way back home, just miles of open space and a few other cars visible in my periphery. I don't miss the start and stop nature of rush hour traffic, false starts leading me nowhere. Instead, I press my foot down on the accelerator of my old truck and we floor it all the way home, the red tail lights on other cars a happy blur on my retinas.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Edward's Beastie Boys shirt was inspired by the pics of Rob on the set of Kristen's latest film: adifferentforest(dot)com/Campfire_?ID=7468 (If that link doesn't work, google it: On the Road, filming in Montreal, in August)

I'm sorry for the influx of updates-trying to catch up to chapter 18, then the new chapters (19 and 20) will be posted. Twilighted is up to chapter 19 if you're impatient. I'm on vacation this week so I hope I get caught up.


	18. Chapter 17: Time Passes

**Chapter 17**

**Time Passes**

_ "_Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me."_ –New Moon_, Stephenie Meyer____

Time passes. Even as you don't realize it's happening, even as you mark it as passing weeks of chemotherapy. My consolidation round of chemo concludes and we await final lab results. Edward and I spend as much time together as possible. He shows me how he checks his blood, and how he counts his carbs, and even how to give his insulin shots. After all the pokes I've been through, I am less squeamish than I thought I would be.

Time passes. Edward and I go on a double date with Jasper and Alice at the fun zone at Balboa Island. We share sugar-free chocolate covered bananas, and kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, and look for stray dolphins as we ride the auto ferry across the water. The sea spray tickles my nose the entire five-minute ride, and I tug on my beanie repeatedly to keep from itching my scalp. On Valentine's Day, Edward gives me a silver heart ring to match the necklace he gave me for Christmas. We spend the day with his family, having an impromptu barbecue and sharing stories around their outdoor fireplace.

Time passes. The strong Santa Ana winds blow furiously one winter night, rattling my windows in their traditionally jarring fashion. Like the surf, the uneven crescendo then shorter decrescendo fascinates me as I watch the leaves blow across our front yard. The dryness that comes with each swoosh of the winds leaves crackling sparks across my beat up skin. I re-apply chapstick to my lips several times, then finally call Edward when I still cannot sleep. He recognizes the scratchiness in my voice and warns me to watch for signs of illness. Sure enough, I cough all night long and eventually have a low-grade fever the next day.

Time passes. And in its wake is the day to day, the humdrum business of our lives, as illness takes us to the brink and back again.

Time passes. And my cancer cells march on and on, replicating, dividing, invading. And repeating the process all over again.

-0-

My mom and I drive the back way through the hills, past the community college to the cemetery where Maddie is buried. It's the twenty-sixth of January and it has been about six weeks since she passed away. There isn't much in the way of seasons for California, so it is a bright sunny day, but the rolling hills around us are tan, earthy brown and yellow in color rather than a vibrant green. The only green we see are the green grasses covering up plots of loved ones. Fields of green, of a different nature.

Maddie is buried in the children's section. As my mom and I wander back and forth a little, semi-lost while we try to find her marker, I notice that most of the children are babies with only a single date etched out on their gravestones. A birth_ and_ death date.

I find Maddie's marker first, freshly placed amongst her rectangle of grass. On shiny black marble, her face smiles up at me, eyes sparkling just as they did when she was still alive. It's amazing the quality of work they can place on a person's gravestone and I mentally remind myself to tell my parents not to place a picture of me on mine. Maddie looks beautiful in a flouncy, fancy dress, carrying a fairy wand and wearing a plastic tiara, however, I want something simple. I look up at my mom's tense face and I know not to say a thing.

It's morbid, really, to be thinking of things such as your own funeral plans but I can't help it when death is literally staring at me in the face. I just don't know which one of us will win the showdown yet. But, there is a battle to be fought.

"It's beautiful," I say, breaking the loud silence between us, as I place purple irises and yellow tulips down next to Maddie's marker. Her vase is filled with large bright orange sunflowers and I don't want to disturb them, knowing that they are likely from Tammy and Joel.

"I watch you sleeping sometimes," my mom whispers so I can barely hear her.

"Yeah?"

"It's so…scary, you know," she pauses, searching for words. "Checking in on your grown daughter…making sure she's still breathing. Even if I know you still are."

I nod silently because…what is there to say? 'I'm sorry' doesn't cover it at all.

"Your father has to pull me away. It drives him crazy, even if he understands."

And I can picture _this_, picture it perfectly in my mind. I see my mom in her flannel pajamas padding slowly over to my room and opening the door for a moment. Debating whether she should come in or not. Timing the inspiration and expiration of my breaths and looking for signs of distress. Clenching her hands stiffly by her sides so that she doesn't tuck my hair behind my ears, waking me up from precious moments of sleep. Moments of healing. No, 'I'm sorry' really doesn't say it at all, even if I _am_ sorry that she has to go through all of this pain for me. It's not my fault; it's not _anyone's_ fault, it just _is_.

My mom says a small prayer as we stand there together, arms around each other, the soft breeze fluttering her strands of hair into my face, tickling me. A single yellow and brown butterfly weaves its way around the children's section, landing on one of the irises momentarily, then dancing away in the sun's rays. Saying her goodbye to us, when she no longer can.

-0-

It's a familiar scene, but also not so familiar. I can pretend like it's the first time I've been in the hospital, but it clearly is not. The first time, my mom couldn't stop crying just like this time. The first time, I held all my tears while she was still by my side. The first time I met Edward Cullen in a tiny room meant as a respite for all the teens dying or not dying of cancer.

_This_ time, Edward is sitting by my side while I am uncharacteristically dressed in a hospital gown. Thankfully, even though this is a children's hospital, they have adult gowns so I'm not covered in embarrassingly colorful teddy bears. Maddie looked cute in hers, but she often preferred to wear these brightly patterned sundresses that her grandmother made her instead. I wonder if Tammy has kept all of her clothes for baby Sydney or if it's too painful to take them out again. I shiver and pull my sweater tightly around me, then button it up over my gown.

"Are you cold, Bella?" Edward asks quietly.

I shake my head. "Just chills."

"Again?"

I nod instead of answering him. He places the back of his hand against my forehead, then turns his hand around to stroke my cheeks with his palm, acting as if he wasn't just checking me for signs of fever. I roll my eyes at his gestures, and he grins crookedly as he shrugs his shoulders sheepishly.

"What time does your dad get here?"

"After his shift. I guess he's spending the night." It's an odd occurrence; my dad hardly ever sleeps overnight at the hospital with me. He's scheduled for the late shift and will arrive after visiting hours so I suppose it's the only way he can visit. My mom spent most of the day with me until Edward came over after school.

"Oh," he answers, noncommittally, then his brow furrows. He reaches over to pick up my hand from the dropped hospital bed railing and holds it between both of his. It's sweet, really, and I imagine that if someone were to look through the windows of my isolation room, they would see it as a romantic gesture, even reminiscent of a proposal. "You're sweating," he states as he semi-discretely wipes the clamminess of my hand onto the bed sheet. "Are you sure you don't have a fever?"

"Not right now," I say, staring down at our hands. I'm nervous. And I'm trying my best not to push him away, again. I promised him honesty. And I promised him that we would get through all of this together. So…the honest thing is that I want us to be together, no matter what. I take a deep breath and decide to take it step by step, just how Dr. G and Angela told me this morning. "But like I told you on the phone, I was having fevers in clinic so they wanted to be safe…make sure everything's okay."

"Edward," I pause and squeeze his hand gently. "They…my results are back. They said…I'm not…I'm not in remission."

He looks sharply up at me, his mouth gaping, his eyes indescribable. "What does that mean? What did Dr. Weber say?"

"Well, I guess after my first month of chemo, most of the cancer cells were killed but I wasn't _technically_ in remission. They thought I would be after the consolidation phase…and then I was supposed to go on to maintenance chemo." _Maintenance_ chemo—they make it sound like I'm a car instead of a person. I smile weakly at that thought.

"So…what happens now?"

"Um, we decided to do another round of consolidation, but with different drugs…but we…uh, _I_ might have to eventually have a transplant."

"Like Maddie?" he asks but I know what's missing from his question. Despite all of his time in the hospital, Edward hasn't met someone who has had a successful transplant. The only cancer patients he knows are Maddie and me. Maddie died less than a month after her transplant….it doesn't matter that she was five and I'm seventeen, it doesn't matter that she had different risk factors and cell counts and chemo than me. What matters is that she had ALL just like me. What matters is that she died, fighting her cancer with every breath, every smile, every cell in her being.

"Yes. But, it depends on whether or not this round puts me into remission." In truth, I have no idea if the doctors will change the game plan at that point either. Every cancer is different, and there are so many protocols. I'm a guinea pig, in a way, but what choice do I have? I have no choice but to fight.

Remission means that the chemo has killed most of the cancer cells in my body. There are still a hundred million or more roaming around, replicating, dividing, invading. Their sinister presence is almost hidden as they creep around my healthy cells taking over everything until my organs cease to function. Prophase. Metaphase. Anaphase. Repeat.

I choose to fight. I choose another round of chemo. I choose not to run and hide but live my life. I choose Edward.

"Okay," he says softly, but his brows are furrowed again. His hands are clasped tightly against mine, but there is nothing more to say. For now.

-0-

Time passes. Edward starts receiving acceptance and rejection letters from the colleges he's applied to. The acceptance pile vastly outnumbers the rejection pile, and I wonder, yet don't ask, where he's leaning towards going.

Time passes…and the new chemotherapy regimen that I am on makes me throw up just as much as the previous one. My fuzzy peach-almost-turning-mahogany-in-places hair falls out in soft chunks, crumbling in my hands and circling the bathtub drains. Alice continues to optimistically work on our prom dresses and I begin to wonder if I'll need to get my GED instead of finishing up at Covenant High.

Time passes and the wind carries it swiftly down to the ocean water. Huge gusts take dirt and foliage and trash and pieces of my life with the air and I feel…left behind. Bereft. Cold. Barren.

The dry Santa Ana winds gather strength quickly; they stretch their arms and pick up large, seemingly immobile objects and drop them to the ground just as suddenly, breaking them apart, bit by bit by bit.

-0-

The arid air bothers me, especially when I try to sleep, even with the aid of a humidifier. I get up and apply Vaseline with a Q-tip to the inside of my nose, then get a new one to apply some to my lips. I glance at the red numbers on my digital clock, willing them to move forward, willing the day to begin. I climb out of bed again and re-apply lotion all over my cracked skin with a sigh. The red numbers dance and fuse together, fading away until the reverberations from my windowpanes wake me up again. The Santa Anas are back, but this time they bring a cold fury with them, somehow making the dryness worse.

This round of chemo causes my mouth to bleed with sores, much more so than even my induction round so I get up to the bathroom and rinse with the special triple mouth wash that Dr. G prescribed for me. When I return to my rumpled sheets, my tired arms pull my afghan over my head. Vanessa's mom made me this afghan when I first got sick, and it is much softer than my down comforter. It's also a cheery aquamarine color that reminds me of the sea. I debate bringing it with me the next time I'm in the hospital. The red lines of my clock stride on and on in a steady, unending rhythm.

Sometimes time passes quickly, other times it creeps and crawls so carefully in millimeters as I wait for dawn.

After a quick doze, I wake up again to the echoing sounds of the wind, pushing and pulling against the sleepiness of my house. This time, however, there are bits of grey light starting to shine through my windows. I wipe the drool from the side of my lips and stare at the empty glass tumbler next to my clock.

I pull on my beanie and one of Edward's old flannel shirts over my tee shirt and yoga pants. It's cold for California; it is winter, after all, and I am grateful to avoid the heat for now. My feet shuffle quietly to my door, even subconsciously I don't want to wake up the rest of the house.

When I get to the living room, I semi-gasp at the sight of the sleeping form on the couch. I even, quite dramatically, bring up my free hand up to my chest in surprise until I recognize my dad's gold watch on the arm hanging out of the bright red plaid blanket. _Why is he down here? Another late shift?_

The sound of my footsteps causes him to stir and he mumbles, "Renee? I'll get up in a minute…before Bells sees me."

Realization hits me in slow motion, yet quick as fire at the same time. The therapy. The love letters. The crying. The silence. The evasion. I drop my empty glass on the floor, the shattering sound waking my dad fully from his slumber. He sits up suddenly, calling my mother's name in confusion, then mine as his eyesight adjusts. But I'm faster than he is. I grab my car keys from the hooks by the door, and dart out quickly into the Southern California mist. I am not ready to hear anything.

-0-

Time passes. My mom and dad decide that they love each other but not enough. That they aren't happy together any longer. That life is too short, and it took me getting sick to show them that. That they cannot stay together solely for my sake.

Time passes. My dad moves out even though he doesn't want to. The stress of my cancer has taken its toll on everyone. As time passes, a marriage slowly dissolves in front of me and my parents' vows become another statistic, not just for the divorce rate, but for the divorce rate amongst couples who have experienced a loss. The loss of my health. And still the long hand of the clock ticks on and on.


	19. Chapter 18: Divergency

**Chapter 18**

**Divergency**

I've been staring at the ocean for so long that the sound of the waves coming in doesn't even register anymore. The sun has risen hours ago, but it's not quite overhead yet. The ocean water is a diversion from my previous task; I had been staring at the trickling overflow water that trailed out from the cliffside houses through the short marshy area and out toward the Pacific Ocean. In this cove, there is a particular path that the rain and gutter waters flow through, eeking their way through a small segment of nature amongst the extravagant houses before diverging into two streams. The two streams separate the sandier part of the cove from the tidepool area but their destination is the same: out to sea.

"Are you ready to talk yet, Bells?" Vanessa asks quietly. I break from my reverie to look at her. Her pose mirrors mine; we are sitting facing the water with our knees bent in a semi cross-legged position and our hands hanging over our legs. It's the same question she has asked me three times already, the gap between the repetitions growing shorter each time.

I'm about to shake my head 'no', when Rose places a hand gently on my shoulder. She's sitting on the other side of me, almost as if my friends are guarding me. In a way, they are. "Should we at least tell _him_ something so he can stop pacing?" Rosalie nods over towards the concrete pathway that leads down to the cove near Edward's house. For the first time I notice that Edward is looking over at us, keeping his distance, and wearing his own pathway in the sand next to the lifeguard station. He runs one of his hands through his hair before waving over to me. I raise my hand but don't wave him over.

"How long has he been there?" I turn my head back towards the horizon, focusing my attention elsewhere.

"A while." I sigh. Edward really is too good for me. I am not pushing him away, yet he gives me my space anyway. _Does he know what's going on?_

After I ran out of my house at lightening speed, I drove straight for this beach, the closest one to Edward's house. I texted both Rosalie and Vanessa but my phone service died before I could call Edward. I don't know why I didn't call him first; I just didn't.

"Okay," I say just to start talking, just to say _anything_. "So why are Alice and Jasper here, then?"

"Bella," Vanessa starts then looks over towards Rose for assistance.

"Your dad called us after you texted us to meet you here. He…he was…worried about you. He likely called all of your friends…um, looking for you."

Realization dawns on me. "So you know…that…my parents are getting…are getting…divorced?" Divorced. The word feels foreign on my tongue despite its commonality. Despite its use in the very day. The names of my chemo drugs are more familiar, comforting even.

"Yes," they both say simultaneously. I gesture vaguely over back towards the trail where my other friends are waiting. Rose must read my intention and gets up quickly to talk to them. I'm contemplating the fact that I'm grateful that Charlie and Renee aren't worried about me—that at least they know where I'm at and that Vanessa and Rosalie are with me.

Charlie and Renee. My parents. My mom and dad. There is no Charlie _and_ Renee any longer but they are still my parents. They still love me, regardless.

Before I have time to contemplate the concept of divorce any longer, Rosalie is back and is tossing a familiar flannel blanket over my shoulders. "Edward didn't want you to get sick," she says softly.

The sun is up in the sky, but there is still an ocean breeze that tickles my skin, causing small bumps to pop up. "He said to come over when you're ready."

I nod and continue my vigil of staring out at the horizon. The sun's rays warm us and soft breezes blow Vanessa and Rosalie's short locks around. Their hair is starting to grow out, just as mine was before I started my new round of chemo. There isn't a cloud in the sky, just a vast amount of blue in front of me. Varying shades of light and dark between the air and the water. Perfect California weather. I want it to be raining, storming, windy and awful. The Santa Ana winds have disappeared with the sun.

When I am sure that Edward, Jasper and Alice must have headed back to the house because the surf has approached and receded no less than fifty times, I turn to each of my friends in turn to look them in the eyes. Icy blue and brown.

"It's my fault, isn't it?"

-0-

The best thing about having friends whom you've known for so long is that they sometimes let you get away with utter bullshit. Vanessa and Rosalie turn to me after my assertion of blame in the demise of my parents' marriage, shake their heads in disagreement, and proceed to let me vent all my fears and frustrations. I think Rose even manages _not_ to roll her eyes at my worries.

"I know it may have happened anyway," I say after I explain how I found my dad sleeping on the couch that morning. And how I pieced the clues together on my way to the coast. My mom's tears. Her nostalgia. Reading through Charlie's old love letters. Therapy. Talk of Tammy and Joel's marriage and how strong they were after everything they had been through. Before _and_ after losing Maddie.

"But I'm sure me getting sick doesn't help…

"And I know they had problems…_before_…back when I was little and we still lived in Washington…" I trail off.

My mind drifts to a happier, earlier time. Back when we first moved to California and would spend summer days together, exploring various beaches along the coast. My dad would take Fridays off and the three of us would find a new stretch of sand, pocketing seashells, bits of seaweed, and even a stray whole sand dollar. In our explorations, we must have stumbled along _this_ cove, the one near Edward's house. I wonder for a moment if he and I would have met back then, toddling around hand in hand, playing side by side, discovering each other with braces on our teeth, then ignoring each other in the awkwardness of early puberty. Would Edward and I have fallen in love in that scenario? If we met _before_ I got sick? If we grew up together?

Or, what if my family never moved from Washington? If his biological parents weren't killed in that accident? Would we have found each other in another state?

I think about the feeling of his hand in mine and I _know_. If a relationship takes two people _wanting_ it to work out and willing it to be so, then we have it. How many times have I pushed Edward away, only to wish he was by my side…and then opened my eyes to see he was there all along? I think back to those salty summer days, the feeling of sticky watermelon and grape juices sliding down my arms, the dampness of my bathing suit drying to my skin, and the words unsaid between my mother and my father. How they would relate to everything through me. Then _and_ now. How when I first got sick…well, they still relayed everything through me.

These thoughts make me realize that my mom and dad are not divorcing _because_ of me. Rather, they have been staying together _for_ me. And life is too short.

Rosalie and Vanessa nod silently next to me and I realize that I have been babbling the word vomit in my mind. I suddenly scramble off the ground to get up, brush the sand off my pants, and then walk over towards the pathway leading up the hill. Leading me back to Edward.

It's time for me to stop running.

-0-

After leaving the beach, Rose and Vanessa escort me to the Cullens' house. They say that they want to make sure I'm okay after walking up the hill, but I know better. They are curious to see Edward's house since I have gushed about it so many times with them.

As we walk up the front pathway, I hear the sounds of Edward playing the piano abruptly stop and, sooner than I would think is possible, he is out the front door and walking towards us.

"Hey, love," he breathes into my hair, enclosing his warm arms around me. Alice stands at the doorway and waves quickly before motioning us all into the house. Rose and Vanessa follow her, but I stay put in Edward's arms.

"I'm sorry I couldn't call you…"

"It's okay."

"My phone died," I say weakly as he nods against my hair again. We are wrapped up in each other and talking into each other's bodies. "My parents are getting divorced."

"I know." I know that he knows this information already, but somehow I want him to hear it again from me. Does it make it more real? I'm not sure.

"Bella," he pauses, opens his mouth and closes it again. "They…they still love you, you know."

I nod because—out of everything—I do know this. I thank him for waiting for me while I was at the beach, mourning for an intangible thing. It seems it is all I am doing this year…mourning, grieving, looking for what is lost instead of what is right in front of me. I tell him my plan to talk to Charlie, and Edward, as ever, listens to all my words.

-0-

Edward pulls in to my driveway just as the sun is setting, insisting on driving me home and dropping my car off for me later. Though my house is farther inland than his, the colors of the sky are still vibrant. A simmering orange ghosting over hints of pink. The air still feels dry from the Santa Ana winds, but at this time of day, it feels more…crisp somehow. It's the only hint that it is actually winter in this seasonless state.

"This is my favorite time of day," he says as he pulls his keys out of the ignition. "When it's just in between day and night."

I know what he means. The scents are sharper at twilight, and it feels like the end of something more than just the daytime. Like I need to stop and grab a hold of the moment before it gets away from me. Somehow it feels too bittersweet for me—letting go of one thing, only to grab a hold of another. "I prefer dawn," I say. "It's the starting over, it's something new, something bright. A blank slate."

If twilight smells like sweet jasmine, then the breaking dawn is like freshly mowed grass.

"Do you…do you want me to come with you?"

"No. It's okay."

"I don't mind, you know…"

"I know, Edward." And I do. He's so sincere and he loves me so much that he's willing to face the awkwardness with me. "But…I want to talk to my dad by myself."

"Okay," he says. In a moment he is at my door, opening it for me so I can get out. I walk over to the darkening porch and wave goodbye to him.

Charlie is waiting inside for me, and calls me over to the kitchen as soon as I step through the door. In front of him are two steaming large cups of hot chocolate and a plateful of Oreo cookies. Just like when I was little.

I'm not sure if my weakened stomach can take the cookies, but I smile at the gesture anyway as I sit down across for him.

"I'm sorry," we both start at the same time.

"Bella, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just sorry that you had to find out like that…your mom and I have been planning to sit you down and tell you, but…"

"It was never the right time," I say, barely louder than a whisper. I understand. How could they tell me that when I am going through yet another round of chemo? How could they _keep_ it from me when I'm going through yet another round of chemo? There is no wrong; there is no right.

"Yeah."

"I _am_ sorry, too, Dad. For just taking off this morning…I know it doesn't solve anything but—"

"It's okay, kiddo," he interrupts. "I, uh, I know that you need to…_process_ things in your own way first." He knows me so well. I guess I'm allowed my melodramatic teenage moment.

"Yeah." Sometimes my dad and I are not ones for words, but sometimes we finish each other's sentences. It has always been this way for us, and it would frustrate my mom all the time that we could communicate so much with so little.

"Bella, you know that this doesn't really have to do with you, right? I mean…obviously you're affected, but…it doesn't mean we love you any less. And-" He stares down at his mug of hot chocolate, absentmindedly stirring the melting marshmallows in a swirl of brown and foam white.

"And it's not my fault," I finish for him. He looks up at me and he must see my sincerity there as he nods slowly then takes a sip of hot cocoa. The foam sprinkles the edges of his mustache hairs.

"Yeah."

"Where's mom?"

"At Tammy's." He's back to stirring his cocoa even though the marshmallows are mostly gone now.

"Are _you_ okay, Dad?"

"I will be."

It is enough. The words we don't say speak volumes. I want to ask him if my mom has broken his heart, but I don't. I look at the lines underneath his eyes and I already know the answer. It was broken long ago.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Links to the beach by Edward's house:

www(dot)rwongphoto(dot)com/RW1304(dot)html

www(dot)examiner(dot)com/scuba-diving-in-san-diego/little-corona-del-mar-beach-capicture?slide=9592011#main

www(dot)examiner(dot)com/scuba-diving-in-san-diego/little-corona-del-mar-beach-capicture?slide=9592001#main


	20. Chapter 19: The Hospital

**Chapter 19**

**The Hospital**

Time is passing me by. I can feel and hear the clicking of the seconds as I fight tooth and nail against this thing called cancer. It is eating me alive, literally, leaving me bone dry, bleeding, bruising. I can almost sense my body writhing with the fight; I see me down on the ground, a ghost of a person, wrestling with each new living cell. An out-of-body experience.

The new round of chemo is tougher than the last one and I have a hard time keeping up with my schoolwork with the sluggishness of my brain. My dad is over every night, almost as if he hasn't moved out.

"Bells," he says, walking quickly over to where I'm reclining on the couch. I have my aquamarine afghan pulled around my shoulders tightly. He places a hand on my forehead, a gesture I have, sadly, gotten used to in the past year. "Do you have a fever?"

"I don't know," I say, resignedly. I no longer deny it immediately, like I used to. I know that I need to make sure to stay on top of things. I know that checking up on me is the only control my parents have over this situation, over this thing called cancer.

This thing called cancer. I keep saying it, like it is something impersonal. Like it hasn't taken over my life, literally, and those surrounding me. I must be having fevers…I can feel the melodrama pour over me.

My dad calls my mom over and I can hear her trudge over to my room as he returns with a thermometer. She is packing my bags for the hospital even before he reads the results. A mother's instinct.

-0-

Jasper is in the hospital again too, but on a different floor. It reminds me of when I first met him, like Edward, in the teen room. Except this time, I'm not allowed in there and he's not allowed in my room. We chat on the hospital phone, calling each other's rooms as if we were on vacation at a hotel instead of in isolation rooms at a children's hospital. He's not in remission either, but it means something different for him and his _nephrotic_ syndrome.

Edward is the only one of the three of us who is healthy. He visits with the requisite mask, even if he used to avoid it. His obedience tells me that he's worried. That he doesn't want to kiss me and make me sick, even if I'm on a ton of precautionary antibiotics.

Tammy comes to visit me as well. She talks about the three of us—Jasper, Edward, and I—and about a few of the other teens she has gotten to know during Maddie's stay here.

"I think it's harder for you older kids," she says, almost musing to herself. Her statement is intentional, however, I can tell because she waits until my mom has left the room.

"Yeah?"

"You know what it's like to be healthy…to run outside without worry." I read between the lines. Life for Maddie _was_ the hospital. She doesn't—_didn't_—know any other way.

I take Tammy's hand in mine and squeeze it gently. I am healthy. My fevers have gone away. My cultures are all negative. I likely have a virus. _Just_ a virus. Another false scare. As if no one ever died from the flu.

"Thank you…for coming here, Tammy," I say. "For being here for me and my mom."

Despite her grief, despite the fact that her own daughter has been buried for less than four months, despite the memories that this place holds, she is here. I want to tell her that she is so strong, but I cannot. I am tired of hearing the words, myself.

-0-

The shrill ringing of the phone almost makes me drop my phone midair. It's a startling contrast to the quiet vibrations of my cell phone. The hospital phone is the most ancient thing in my room, a cheap plastic thing with no holder and a bright orange-red light on top that signals with each ring.

"Hello?" I mumble.

"Hey, Bella," Jasper drawls on the other side. "Done with rounds?"

"Nope," I say, picking my spoon up again. "Still eating breakfast. Watching _The Today Show_."

"Me too." We chat while finishing breakfast. I normally don't mind the solitude as my mom or dad are usually with me. Or Edward. Jasper, I've noticed, is often alone.

"FFI today?" FFI—it's Jasper's code word for the fresh-faced intern. Lately she has been pre-rounding on me instead of the nurse practitioner.

"Yeah."

"Cheerful?"

"Always." The FFI looks young, like she could be just a few years older than me even though she has to be at least in her mid-twenties. She walks in with a smile, even as she quietly examines me, even if I am asleep. This morning I raised one heavy eyelid to find her smiling at me while listening to my lungs. I sat up immediately even though she said I could go back to sleep. It felt rude not to.

FFI has a name and I know it but I choose not to remember it. If I did, she would simply be part of the_ string_ of doctors and nurses I've met here, but I can tell she's different, cheerfulness be damned. Excluding Angela and Sue, of course.

We chat for a bit longer, just passing the time, just passing the days. Marking time as if it is limitless.

Later that evening, after my mom and Edward leave, I pass by that intern as she stumbles down the hallway. She smiles hello at me and even remembers _my_ name.

"On call?" I ask, certain that she usually leaves the hospital before dinner.

"Got called in on back-up because there are so many admissions," she admits.

I nod, a little sad that I understand her. "Admitting someone new?"

She nods without revealing any information about the new patient.

"Like me?"

She nods again. Of course the patient is like me, likely another 'fever rule out sepsis' admission. We're on the Oncology floor—who else could it be?

"Hope you get some sleep," I say as I wander down towards the teen room.

"I hope I get to go home," she responds as she checks her beeper and continues to stumble down the hallway towards the nurses' station. I think about her smiles, and realize that her eyes have bags under them, no matter how cheerful her disposition. Like me, she's tired. Like me, all she wants is to go home.

Since the nurses are busy, no one else bothers me on my walk down the hall. When I reach the door of the teen room, I pause for a moment to look through the glass. Jasper is facing away from me, towards the television, and is playing a video game by himself. Another controller sits on the coffee table, abandoned. Glancing at the other end of the room, I realize Jasper is not alone. Edward is curled up on one of the chairs, asleep with his head tilted to one side, stray hairs falling across his forehead. _Why hasn't he gone home?_

I open the door quietly so as not to awaken him even though he likely wouldn't hear the door over the din of Jasper's video game. Jasper pauses his game and tosses his controller on the couch as I walk in.

"Snuck past the nurses?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.

"Hey, at least I have my mask on," I mumble through the cotton of my pale blue mask. "Besides, I'm going home tomorrow…the isolation is just a formality now." Our words are not really even needed. He knows as well as I do that I wouldn't risk getting myself or any of the other patients sick.

"Why is Edward still here?"

"I suspect he was too tired to drive home," Jasper says quietly.

And I see it now, how we're all so tired—me, Jasper, Edward, the FFI, my parents, maybe even Angela—yet we still keep plugging along, placing one foot in front of the other. At one point, for me, every step was a struggle. Now I'm just biding my time, waiting for my doctors to declare me cancer-free.

"And maybe he was keeping me company," he smiles half-heartedly. He's going home soon too, but he's been here for five days and seems to have avoided shaving since being admitted, as he has something in between long stubble and a beard growing on his lower jaw.

"Your family's not here?" The second that I say the words, I regret it. I've never heard Jasper talk about his family, just the Cullens. His eyes drop.

"Alice was here earlier," he answers, avoiding my original question.

"Yeah, I saw her for a bit." I glance over at Edward again, checking to see if he's still asleep.

"She left before Edward came down." He finally raises his eyes back to mine. "Sit down a moment, Bella. I…I want to tell you about my family."

This is how I learn about Jasper's family, or lack thereof. How it was really just him and his mom and a string of ex-step dads, each increasingly wealthier than the last. How last year, he got really sick and had to call an ambulance to bring him to the ER and his mom was nowhere to be found. Or, rather, she was traveling, as usual, and no one could get a hold of her.

"You know they had to treat me because it was an emergency?" he says. "I was in the PICU with a severe infection in my abdomen." I nod in understanding as hospital lingo is my norm. "I guess it happens all of a sudden with my disease."

"So, where was your mom?"

"The south of France. Or Morocco. Or somewhere in between," he shrugs. "Edward was in the next bed over. You know in the intensive care unit, a lot of the beds are only separated by curtains?" I'm lucky enough not to have stepped into the ICU. I look up at Edward and wonder how many times he's been there. He continues to sleep soundly as Jasper continues his story. "Esme figured out something was going on….when they finally got a hold of my mom, she came over to talk with me.

"Basically, she helped me figure out how to gain emancipation…so that when I'm sick, I'm my own legal guardian of sorts." He stops there and I hear what he isn't saying: so they don't have to bother finding his mom for permission to treat him. It's funny seeing what a major illness does to you and your family—it can break you apart or pull you together. Jasper's found a family of his own, in his friends at the hospital, in the Cullens. I guess I have as well. It makes me realize how lucky I am. Yes, my parents are getting divorced. Yes, likely my cancer played some part of that. But, they have stuck with me every step of the way and I know that they will continue to do so. I'm a survivor, just like Jasper, just like Edward. We are different, but the same all at once. We are not alone.

-0-

As I leave the next morning, Environmental Services is called to the room. I hear the nurse's call for the changeover of the bed. A new patient is coming, waiting to take my place. Bleached white sheets are snapped high in the air and tucked neatly into the corners of the hospital bed before the plastic bedrails are pulled up. Every thing smoothed over, clean.

I say my goodbyes to the nurses as my mom and I saunter out, another day, another hospitalization in a long line of hospitalizations. One day it will be my last 'discharge' and I'll just follow up at the clinics. Every week, every month, every three months, every six months, every year. Soon they may not even recognize me here. I'll become a statistic, a notch in their ladder of success. A survivor.

For now, I am mesmerized by the rise and fall of the crisp white sheets, hanging suspended in the air. It reminds me of the first snowfall I saw with Edward, bright white particles surrounding us, creating a blank slate of white on the ground. A new beginning.

The vast whiteness lifts up towards the ceiling then slowly, softly falls back down.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Once upon a time, _I_ was that fresh-faced intern...**  
><strong>

I know this one is short-chapter 20 will post later this week. Then there is one regular chapter left and a tiny epilogue.


	21. Chapter 20: The Interim

**Stephenie Meyer owns any Twilight characters that may appear in this story. The remainder is my original work. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

**The Interim**

At the closing of a day, people climb into their cars and head home. They close their stores, they clock out, they wave to those being left behind. I can see the traffic building on the freeway from my hospital window. It is one of many freeways in the area, one of many interlocking thoroughfares that get us where we want to be. Sometimes it takes a while, but we get there.

The closing of the day goes by unnoticed in the insular world of the hospital. My nurses and doctors shift in and out, giving each other updates, and the end of the day is marked by the nurses' change of shift at seven p.m. and the darkening of the yellow fluorescent hallway lights.

I mark time by counting back how many different nurses have taken care of me since my arrival. Usually I'm up to ten before it's time to go home. Sometimes it's just four or five if my cultures are all negative. Then I say my goodbyes and head back to my house where it's just my mom and me now. Until it's time to return again.

-0-

During my second round of chemo, I clock a lot more time at the hospital. I miss a lot more school and finally I drop out, unsure if even summer school will get me through. I may have to repeat my junior year, or take my GED. I'm determined to finish either way.

The second round of chemo makes my fuzzy peach, almost mahogany again, hair fall out in waves. Alice buys me ridiculous fake eyelashes from a high-end Japanese line. She buys herself extra long ones that mimic peacock feathers. We laugh and practice gluing them on each other. Edward laughs at us as well and gives me butterfly kisses with his perfect natural lashes on my dry cheeks. I smile sadly.

"It's just temporary, Bella," he reminds me.

After eight weeks of my second round of chemo, Dr. G schedules me for another bone marrow biopsy. My dad takes the day off to take care of me. Mom does too, but decides at the last moment that she cannot go with us. It's not the separation or divorce or whatever you want to call the interim, but it's the procedure. She wants to have hope but she doesn't know how to anymore. And she doesn't want to take the hope away from me.

How do I know this? My dad whispers these words, along with other ones of encouragement while I'm sedated for the procedure. He holds my hand—even though I am seventeen years old and almost an adult—and I can feel the calluses of long years of work on his fingers. These calluses are reassuring. I have many long years ahead of me too.

In the recovery room, I wake up to see my dad frowning down at his phone. He moves his fingers quickly then smiles before he notices that my eyes are open. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he jokes.

"Hey."

"Any pain?"

"Not really."

"I…uh…I learned to text while you were sleeping."

"Oh yeah?" My dad is reluctant with new technology so this news makes me smile.

"Yeah. That boyfriend of yours wouldn't stop texting me. Checking up on you, I guess." My smile widens.

I fall asleep on the way home and my dad practically carries me out of the car and onto the porch. At the front door, I lean heavily on him as he unlocks the door. I don't feel weak…just tired, I guess.

We shuffle in and find my mom and Edward in the living room, waiting for us. The couch is set up with a fresh sheet and my afghan, and I spend the rest of the afternoon there, in and out of consciousness. My parents play board games with Edward and I pretend to participate in between naps. I could go to my room instead, but it feels so warm to be amongst such love and concern from the three of them. I don't want to miss out on a second of it.

Both my mom and dad accompany me to my next appointment. We want to pretend as if it is no big deal, but it is. Mom starts muttering about some fashion disaster or another in some celebrity magazine and Dad and I nod our heads. Aside from that comment, most of the rest of the drive and our time in the waiting room is silent.

We enter the clinic like we have a multitude of times beforehand. This is different. We are all three here together, for one thing. And, there is something in the air…anticipation, maybe?

Hope. It's this strange foreign feeling that bubbles up. It comes in waves, small ripples like the ones that come up the little cove near Edward's house. It's been fleeting throughout this year, but today it feels like a tangible thing to me.

Hope. Such a simple word. If hope had a color, what would it be? A deep forest green, the exact shade of Edward's eyes. That's what is in the air. That's what hope is to me.

The minutes tick by as my parents sit on plastic chairs and I jump off the examining table, hearing the familiar crinkle of the tissue paper beneath me just as Dr. G knocks on the door. He walks in quickly with Angela following him. Her face is glowing, a wide smile underneath the twinkling of her eyes. I sit back carefully, fidgeting with the paper underneath me and the soft cloth of my gown.

"Mr. and Mrs. Swan. Isabella," Dr. G greets us. "I won't keep you waiting. It's good news. Isabella is in remission."

Angela claps her hands and, I think, shrieks. I'm not sure because my ears are buzzing, burning and I think that my mom is bawling and my dad is yipping—actually _yipping_—in happiness.

"You are officially in remission, Bella," Angela repeats.

The words run through the blockage in my ears and bounce off my eardrums before processing in my brain. I can't say anything even as Dr. G explains the details.

Silently, the tears stream slowly down my cheeks.

Emerald green. It's the color of hope. The color of relief, of joy. The color of love.

-0-

"Did you bring it?" Edward asks. He's a different man since we got the news that I'm in remission. In the last few weeks, the purple bruises underneath his eyes have disappeared and he just seems so much…lighter than before.

"It's in my backpack." He pulls off my backpack that he's carrying onto the sand and quickly spreads the blanket he brought onto the ground. He picked me up for an early picnic dinner and brought me straight to the little cove by his house. The late spring air is warm but the ocean breeze counterbalances it. A perfect California day.

"Do you mind?" I shake my head so he unzips my bag and pulls out the journal he gave me for my birthday so many months ago. I've filled it with ramblings, poems, random quotes and song lyrics, and a picture or two of him. "You can read it," I add, but he hands the book to me instead of opening it up. I have nothing to hide from him.

"No. That wasn't my idea." He places a pen in my other hand before he continues, "I thought we'd make a list."

"Okay…"

"A bucket list," he clarifies.

"I'm not dying, Edward." It's a statement but it's also my mantra. I'd been repeating it for months, especially to get through that second round of chemo.

"I know," he pauses. "It's a not-a-bucket bucket list. For…all the things you've been wanting to do. All the things you _would_ have been doing this year instead of…" he trails off, but I understand anyway. This list isn't just for me; it's for him too.

"That's a great idea," I say, then lean over to kiss him quickly on the lips, just because I can.

He sets up some cheese, bread, fruit and drinks as I work on my list. In the end, there are only a handful of things.

_Ride a motorcycle_

_Skydive or cliff-diving_

_Go to prom with Edward_

_Graduate high school_

_First time_

I write them in that order but the priority is opposite. I just know that I can't write that one first without Edward teasing me. Edward leans over and I can feel the soft scruff of his jaw on my neck. It's sharp, unlike the tiny hairs that are starting appear more and more all over my body. Peach fuzz.

"Motorcycle?" he smirks.

"Yeah. I—" I start to explain but he cuts me off.

"First time for what?"

"You know," I smile because I know he's going to make me say it. "Sex," I whisper.

"You're not a virgin, Miss Swan."

"I want us to have _our_ first time together."

"Okay," he concedes. "When you're better."

"I _am_ better," I counter.

"When you're stronger."

"I _am_ stronger." And I am. I'm getting stronger every day even though the side effects from all the drugs still haunt me now and then. Fatigue hits at the oddest times but I'm making my way back, even hoping to do summer school and catching up in a few of my classes.

"Prom?"

"No, not at_ prom_," I scoff. "Or after. It's too cliché."

He laughs, tiny crow's feet crinkling near his eyes. "I didn't mean we'd have sex then. At least not our first time."

"Then—"

"I _meant_ that I'm surprised that _prom_ made the list. I thought you didn't 'do' dances."

"But I already have this great date lined up," I shrug. "Plus it's _your_ last prom. I want us to go."

"Me too."

The springtime sun starts its slow descent as we finish our picnic, bathing Edward's face in hues of pink, purple and orange. He is wearing his Ray Bans and his cheeks and jaw glow a beautiful magenta color. I rest my head on his shoulder and can feel the ties of my scarf dip towards him like the ends of a ponytail. Even though I don't feel as bad that I only have bits of hair, I still wear the scarf to protect my skin from sunburn.

Our fingers are linked together and the silence between us is as calm as the slow ocean waves rolling in. Except for the scarf, we are like any other pair of lovesick teenagers at the beach, enjoying our stolen moments while we can. For the first time, I contemplate a future with Edward. Together. Maybe we'll have that happily ever after, after all.

-0-

At once I'm lost and drowning in the moment—in the electric hum, in the mixture of scents, in the heat and softness, in the tangle of sheets, and the indescribable feeling of Edward and I together. Except it's wrong to say that I'm drowning—that _we're_ drowning—as if it's out of control or overpowering us.

Somehow our clothes end up in a jumbled mess in our frenzy. Our movements are a juxtaposition of rapid impatience and slow veneration. I am lost in the burning bright fire green of Edward's eyes, the sensation of his skin on my skin, the partial weight of his body on me, the warmth of him in me. He whispers gently as his lips are lost in my hair, "I love you, Bella," and "Only you, Bella," and nothing coherent leaves my own lips. Soft and wet kisses from my jawline to my collarbone, then our tongues are full of motion and emotion. It is too much and not enough all at once.

We're clumsy at times and instead of feeling embarrassed or awkward, I giggle slightly. It's so different from my first time that it's really my _first _time because nothing has ever felt like this before. It's deliberate and reverent, then hard and fast and alive. I'm focusing on anything and everything that is Edward. The inimitable bronze of his hair falling down on me, and the same color smattering throughout his beautiful body. The light sheen and slickness of perspiration covering both of us. The sparks that bounce back and forth, the husky sound of his voice, the soft and sometimes load moans emanating from each of us, the lightness of feeling that encompasses my body at the end as my hearing seems to disappear and all senses dissipate except the sense of just Edward.

The feeling of lightness evaporates and transforms as a sense of…pride overcomes me when Edward free falls over the edge after me. Beyond the passionate fire in Edward's eyes, I can see wonder and the depth of his love for me, and the unbreakable bond that is just us, just Edward and Bella. Nothing else exists.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

The Japanese eyelashes: www(dot)shuuemura-usa(dot)com/_us/_en/accessories/false-eyelashes(dot)aspx


	22. Chapter 22: Prom

**A/N: **This is the final chapter...finally. There will be a short epilogue to follow soon after this posts. I am so sorry for the delay, but am grateful to all of you readers who have stuck through this story to the end.

A big thank you to pomme_de_terre for pre-reading duties throughout this whole story, and for all the encouragement and friendship that has come out of it. =)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

**Prom**

It's a good thing that I don't really plan on going to many school dances because fate or the gods or what-have-you conspire against me going to Prom with Edward. It's like Homecoming all over again except more frustrating because I am healthier—relatively speaking—and I really want to go with Edward.

Even though I am signed up for summer school for two classes and my religion teacher is letting me do a special project so I don't have to re-take that class, Covenant High won't let me buy a Prom ticket because I technically have dropped out of school. And, since Edward doesn't go to Benedict High, he can't buy tickets either.

"We can just go to Harbor's," Edward offers. "You said we'd go to both anyway."

I look at him warily. I'm not sure I can handle going to _both_ dances and getting all dressed up twice. It sounds exhausting, but I don't want to remind him about my post-chemo fatigue. "Vanessa and Jake offered to buy us tickets," I say instead. "We're going with them as a group anyway."

"So…like you'd be going with Jake and I'd be going with Vanessa? Yeah…no."

"No. We'll just all walk in together."

He pauses to think about it. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"Okay then," he acquiesces, then gives me his irresistible half-smile. "I guess we need to cross something else off your not-a-bucket bucket list."

-oOo-

In the end, our plans do not matter; I am too exhausted to go. There is no way around it and I spend the weekend before Prom resting before finally admitting to myself that I likely won't have the energy by the following weekend. On top of that, the brilliant prom committee decided to have Prom on a _boat_ that would cruise around the harbor—as if my post-chemo nausea isn't enough.

"Edward?" I mumble into his chest as we snuggle on his couch while watching a movie. The flashes of light from the television outline the definition of his handsome face, a face I love so much.

"Yes, love?"

"I don't think I can go to Prom."

"We don't have to, Bella." He frowns slightly and I feel bad. It's like Homecoming all over again, even though six months have passed and I am in remission now. It doesn't matter. The rounds of chemo have done a number on my healthy cells—along with keeping me alive—and I am still recovering from the after effects. "We can go next year instead," he continues.

"No. You'll be in college…"

"I don't mind."

"No. I mean…I think _you_ should still go."

"Why would—"

"Please?" I turn to face him after muting the movie we are no longer watching. "You can take Rose—she was going to go stag. You already have your tux."

He nods quietly then un-mutes the television. The words are just white noise to me and I drift contentedly asleep on Edward's chest, dreaming of him in a tux and me in Alice's remake of Princess Grace's dress for me. Alas, it is only a dream.

-oOo-

Vanessa, Rose, and Alice come to my house to get ready for Prom. Alice arrives last with three garment bags in tow. Rosalie raises one of her eyebrows at her and says, "I already have a dress," in a semi-wary, semi-condescending voice.

"I know, Rosalie," Alice chides. "These two are for Bella."

"I'm not going tonight," I answer immediately. I'm in my most comfortable pair of yoga pants and a very worn, ultra-soft old police department shirt of my dad's, knotted at the waist, with a matching navy bandana over my peach fuzz.

"I know, Bella. It's for June." She hooks one of the garment bags on the living room lamp and unzips it quickly with a flourish. Inside I can see seafoam green taffeta with a slight sheen. She takes the dress carefully out of the bag so we can admire it more appropriately. The extra fabric around the waistline cascades in waves and continues down the front of the dress to form a short train on the back. The draping makes it less obvious that I still haven't gained back the weight I lost this year. I only hope that I can be as graceful as Grace Kelly was in her inspiring version of this Alice Cullen original.

"It's beautiful, Alice. Thank you so much." I turn to hug the person who has become like a sister to me, just like Vanessa and Rosalie.

"It is," Rose and Vanessa both agree. "What's in June?"

"The hospital has its own Prom," I say quietly. "For other cancer patients, like me, who can't go to their own Prom." I can't call myself a 'cancer survivor', not yet. I don't even know if the other people at the hospital Prom will be in remission like me, or if their days are numbered. I shake off that thought and smile at Rose. "You didn't think I'd let you get away with Edward as your date if I couldn't go to Prom with him too, did you?"

"I didn't really need a date," she grumbles, but I know better. She may have not minded going to the dance stag but she would have minded all the whispers behind her back from all the Benedict boys, especially since there was so much drama with Royce at Homecoming.

Alice opens up the last garment bag to reveal a simple yellow sundress, but I refuse to put it on just to take pictures. Yoga pants will have to do. The girls continue to get ready and I join, letting Alice apply some light eye shadow and mascara to my basically nonexistent make-up routine of lip gloss and powder. "Wishful make-uping," I smile at her, quoting an old John Hughes movie. After all, I have an evening planned at home with my mom, likely watching Andie go to Prom with Duckie instead of her out-of-reach dream guy.

-oOo-

"There are certain moments that you never forget, Bella," my mom says as she continues to cut and glue pictures. "The first time I held your hand, it was a rare sunny day where we used to live in Washington. We were at the park. And, I'm sure I _had_ held your hand before, like when you were first born, but this was different."

She pauses in her scrapbooking duties to look me in the eyes as she finishes telling the story. "You had been walking for a month or so and you reached out for my hand just as I reached for yours."

"That's cute," I say, but it doesn't begin to cover it.

My mom smiles at me. "I remember saying to you, Bella, how it would be the first of many times I'd hold your hand." And I can picture this, me with a caplet of hair with chubby cheeks, enjoying the sun's rays as it covers the pathway in front of us. Only I don't picture it as a one-year old, I picture the scene as my mom would, enjoying the little things with her little girl. It's why the scrapbooks are so important to her, why she feels the need to make one of Maddie's last birthday for Tammy and Joel, no matter how much they say they don't want one. One day they're going to want to remember.

-oOo-

The limo arrives and it's so big that the driver parks it on the street rather than the driveway. They've rented a Hummer and all the boys were picked up at Edward's house first before coming here for pictures, and then turning around back to the coast for the Prom boat. It would make more sense for the girls to be picked up first, but no one wants to leave me out.

Alice receives a text from Jasper so we all file out onto the porch to wait for them since we're taking pictures outside. I grab my camera for the shots.

The chauffer opens the back door and it's sort of funny to watch the boys pile out of the black elongated Hummer, all decked out in tuxedos despite the warm day. I follow Alice, Rose, and Vanessa out onto the grass, laughing as their heels stick a bit and they inch back to the stone pathway instead. Jake comes out first, his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail, a plastic corsage box in his hands.

"Hi, ladies," he calls out and I snap a few quick shots to give to Vanessa later. Jasper follows quickly behind him and then there's this pause before Edward pops out as well. The pause is so much like in the movies that it is ridiculous but I feel like I am watching him on slow motion camera and admiring the sun's rays on his chiseled face, glinting off the dark, dark black of his tux. He reaches into the limo for something else and shrugs a duffle bag over one shoulder before looking up to catch my eyes. I lower the camera, caught up in the moment before I stop to mumble to myself, "Why does he have a duffle?"

But in the next moment, I know. Instead of shutting the door behind Edward, the chauffer leaves it open and out of the darkness of the car, I spot shadows that emerge.

Emmett. He is similarly decked out in a tuxedo.

More quickly than I could imagine—likely because I am dumbfounded—Emmett is loping across the lawn to Rosalie who squeals, actually _squeals_ as he wraps his arms around her. I can't even comprehend it, either, because my boy, my _boyfriend_ is grinning similarly at me as he places his duffle at my feet and taps on the camera I've left dangling around my neck.

"Should we ask your mom to take some pictures?"

"Um…what's going on?"

"Well," he looks over to Rose. "We thought we'd let Rosalie choose her date for the night…since I already agreed to go. And then Emmett or I will hang out with you and play video games." He lifts his bag in explanation. "If that's okay with you, that is."

"That's fine," I say, unable to suppress the smile that is bubbling up inside me. "I can teach Emmett a thing or two on Grand Theft Auto."

"Okay," he answers slowly, disappointment written all over his face.

"Edward," I whisper. "Rose hasn't even _heard_ your proposal…I'm pretty sure she's choosing your brother." He turns to look at Rose and Emmett again and they are too busy in their own conversation to acknowledge us.

He smiles at me, the same smile that won me over all those months ago at the hospital, and I'm falling for him all over again. "You look good in a tux," I say, and we walk back towards the house to get my mom for pictures. Hand in hand, tux and yoga pants, sick and well and in love. It's as easy as that.

-oOo-

In June the hospital holds a special Prom for all of us who have had to miss out on ours and even those who still got to go. It's sponsored by a bunch of local companies and is at the Disneyland Hotel. I suppose that it's in June because all of the rush of other schools' proms are over.

Angela told me about the hospital Prom when I called her, in tears, about missing my own. That's right. Me, Bella Swan, in tears about missing a school dance, something I never cared about before. But, there's something about surviving this thing called cancer that makes me want to experience everything, even the seemingly mundane high school milestones.

Someone from the Oncology Department calls me later that week asking where to mail my four tickets to Prom. Since it is a hospital function, they like to make it more about groups of friends than 'date-y'.

So, the third weekend in June, just before Edward's eighteenth birthday, Edward, Alice, Jasper and I walk arm in arm in arm in arm into the transformed ballroom.

There is an eclectic mix of Promwear, some more formal than the rest. Edward contemplated wearing a suit instead of a tuxedo until he saw the dresses Alice designed for us. He really left it up to me and although he looked good in both, I wanted it to feel like a true Prom experience. Jasper is wearing one as well so that the four of us kind of match. Alice is in her fiery red ballgown that is about as wide as she is tall, and I am her water-inspired counterpart. Not cold like ice, but warm, alive, grateful.

Most of the other people here are also wearing wigs like me, though some are so nice that it's hard to tell except for the lack of eyebrows or lashes. I, on the other hand, have Alice on my side and she carefully filled in my barely there eyebrows with a dark brown pencil.

Some of the crowd is younger and I wave to a few of the kids I've met throughout this past year. There's the tweener, Bree, who I met at Maddie's birthday party and she holds onto her date, who is dressed in a tuxedo printed tee-shirt and dark wash jeans. She is in a simple but age appropriate dark blue sundress and has hints of make-up on. As Edward leads me onto the dance floor, I look around and smile at the crowd surrounding me. We are all survivors. For today.

-oOo-

An occasion. There are many things that mark an occasion. A wedding, a funeral, Prom, your first steps, a first date, the first day you decide that you're going to live your life to the fullest, no matter how many minutes, days or years you have left.

As Edward wraps his arms around me, leading me as we dance, I smile and think of our first dance at our makeshift Homecoming at the hospital. I think about how if I had not gotten sick, I would never have met Edward. Or, if he had been taking better care of himself in the first place, would he have even been there the night I was first admitted to the hospital? Fate finds its sources in mysterious places, after all.

"You look beautiful, Bella," he says.

"Thank you." Whereas before I would have laughed at his compliment, I am learning to accept his words.

"You think Alice will top this dress next year?" He brushes one of his hands across the draping at my waistline.

"I don't know if I'll go next year."

"Why not?"

"Will you be done at Berkeley? When does the semester end?"

"I'm not going to Cal." I frown. It's been Edward's dream to go to college with his brother. For a while there—before I'd known him—he lost sight of that goal when he was too busy 'not caring' about his own health and life. But he'd been on track for his senior year.

"Bella, it's too far from you…"

"It's fine—"

"No, it isn't," he interrupts me. "I know you're in remission, but what if something changes?"

"You can't say that. Not…not after all I fought for this year. Not after everything I—_we_—have been through."

"Bella, I know. But, it makes more sense for me to go to UCLA. I don't want to be that far away from you. And it has a good pre-med program. And, shouldn't where I go to college be _my_ decision anyway?"

"Okay," I say smiling, conceding. "So you won't complain if I decide to go back East next year? What if I choose to go to say…Dartmouth? Or Brown?"

He shakes his head, calling my bluff. "I'm not even going to answer that, love." In truth, I know he'd support my decision, either way, no matter what. He's shown me that, time and again.

He takes my hand in his and places it on his upper arm, wrapping his other arm around my waist. While the other couples surrounding us are doing the awkward teenage slow dance with girls' arms around their partners' necks, Edward leads me in a semi-waltz position. We compliment each other—he's leading, but I'm not exactly following—and my seafoam green dress, a color I would never have chosen for me in the past, swirls around us. It seems like we are in a cloud of sparkles, perhaps all the glitter Alice sprayed on me earlier, perhaps just the dust of the ballroom. Either way we are focused on each other, in our own little bubble of Edward and Bella.

During my junior year in high school, I discovered that I was dying. I also discovered that I could fight against what was killing me, what was stealing my soul and sucking the very life out of me. I discovered that I was stronger than I thought, though it helped that I had so many loved ones supporting me. During my junior year in high school, I discovered that sometimes love isn't enough, as was the case with my parents. But, I also discovered that sometimes love is _just_ enough to get you through the worst and best year of your life.

Sometimes love is just enough for forever.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Yes, I wanted to end at Prom to mirror the ending of _Twilight_, and you may notice some references to that final chapter here.

I know I've said my thank yous above, but I want to thank all of you wonderful readers and reviewers again. It's been a long journey for me, and I wish that there had not been such a huge delay in getting the last five-six chapters out. But, life is what it is. I have indicated earlier on that Twilight/FF was a huge escape for me after the death of my daughter from trisomy 18 in 2009. Thank you for letting me share this writing, this escape, this healing with you. The subsequent birth of my third daughter in 2010 slowed down this writing and I think the voice changed a bit, but it's overall the story I wanted to tell, even if I'm not in the same place anymore.

I also want to say a belated thank you to all the chronic patients I had the privilege of knowing and taking care of when I was a resident. Most have since passed away, but there are a few that are thriving: DLV, AL, ES, E, CG, LM, GS, AS, AR, AC, LM, IM, J, DR and the ones that I've forgotten but who are _not_ forgotten.


	23. Epilogue

**A/N:**

**Disclaimer: ** I don't really believe in epilogues...so if you don't either, don't feel obligated to read this one. =) However, this scene popped into my head very early on in the story so I _had_ to write it. It's sort of given me an ending to write towards, especially when I debated changing the ending after my long hiatus (the first one). So, thankfully, I did end up putting Bella into remission...I don't think my heart could write it any other way.

A last thank you to **pomme_de_terre** for pre-reading. And, of course, thank you to all of you readers, but most especially to those of you who have been here since the beginning and stuck it through to the end. It means a lot to me.

* * *

><p><strong>An Epilogue of Sorts<strong>

I'm fingering the black and white printout in front of me, almost oblivious to the cacophony of clanking dishware and loud voices around me. The white noise fades to the background as I stare at this strip of three pictures. Such a blurry mess, yet it means so much. Our first pictures of our little girl.

"You're going to get strawberry pie all over them, love," Edward teases from across the table. I look up at the piercing moss green eyes that I know so well.

"You're just jealous cuz you can't have any," I say, picking up a syrupy strawberry with my fork and brandishing it in front of him.

"I can have a bite," he says as he takes his own fork and spears a strawberry of his own. I roll my eyes at him—he's always cheating just a little bit on his diet. "I can't believe you can eat this and those greasy fish and chips, but tomatoes make you gag."

"I can't help my morning sickness," I retort. "Besides, I thought this was a celebration meal."

"Bella, if this was a celebration meal, we would _not_ be at a diner." The celebration is two-fold; of course, we are celebrating our first ultrasound and the fact that we are having a little girl _and_ we are celebrating Edward finishing another one of his rotations. He is in his third year of medical school at UW, the first year of clinical rotations through the hospitals.

"How was your exam, anyway?"

"It was fine. Just psych. I spent more time prepping for next week."

"Oh yeah. You're starting Surgery, right?" Edward wants to do well on his surgery rotation—not only because of his father, but also just in case he decides to specialize in surgery too. He has until next year to decide—he'll be applying for residencies at the beginning of his fourth year. Likely trying to get us closer to home, closer to our families back in California so they could spoil our little girl.

"Yup," he responds. "I have to use the restroom. I'll be back."

I continue to stare at the ultrasound pictures, then take out my cell phone to take a picture. The waitress stops by to collect our empty dishes and refill our waters. "First one?" she asks.

"Yeah, " I say as I re-take the picture, trying to get one that is less blurry.

"Congratulations," she says. "You and your husband seem very happy together." She gestures over towards Edward's empty seat.

"Boyfriend," I correct her, but she has already moved on to the next table. I shrug my shoulders to myself. It doesn't matter anyway. I quickly send the baby's picture to Renee, Charlie, Esme, Carlisle, Rose, Alice and Emmett. I'm in the middle of sending it to Angela when I decide to add a text to the picture. _The odds are in my favor again._ I type out. _It's a girl._ I add the last part because even though Angela is a doctor, I'm sure she can't see the 'hamburger sign' reflecting our baby's gender as a girl on the fuzzy cell phone copy. Just the thought of beating the odds, once again, causes tears to silently fall down my cheeks. "Damn pregnancy hormones," I mutter.

"Hey, I don't mind them," Edward teases as he comes up from behind me. He joins me on my side of the booth and peers over my shoulder at my cell phone. "This is the most you've cried since when I first met you."

"Ass," I say and shove him playfully. "I'm just sending a picture of Madison to Angela," I add.

"Madison?"

"Our baby. Is that okay?"

He breaks out in a wide grin. "Of course, Bella. Our own little Maddie." After reading what I typed to Angela, he turns back to look at me again. "You _have_ beaten the odds. Only _you_ could get pregnant on the pill, _and_ after years of chemo…"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I retort, but there is no malice in my tone. I know exactly how Edward feels. The day I took the pregnancy test, we were both crossing our fingers that it would be positive, even if we weren't planning on trying to have a baby quite yet.

"Of course not. You know I'm thrilled. Only one thing would make me happier."

"What's that?" I ask, again already knowing what he's referring to.

"Bella," he says quietly. "I've been in love with you for eight years now. You are my life. Will you finally marry me?"

"Hmm," I say, trying to giggle, but it comes out as a sob as loud tears come pouring out now. "That's… not the most romantic proposal I've heard…"

"Compared to the other eight or nine times I've proposed?" Edward laughs at my half-sobbing, half-giggling attempt at light-heartedness. He reaches around and wipes the tears from my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, just as he always does. "Come on, Bella. Let's get married…I know you don't want a big wedding. We could fly to Vegas tonight. Have our families meet us there. I know it's not what we planned, but we didn't plan Maddie either…and we didn't even know you could get pregnant. Let's do something unexpected. Finally make it official."

I think about the last eight years of my life with Edward; he was there from the first moment I was diagnosed with leukemia, and he helped me fight it every step of the way. He had asked me to marry him almost at least once a year since I had known him-when he graduated from high school, when my cancer went into remission, when each of us graduated from UCLA back to back, when he got accepted into med school, our first year in Seattle, when we first found out I was pregnant and several times since then. I held back every time. At first we were too young, but mostly I wasn't ready. I'm not really sure what I'm waiting for at this point. Edward is my life. And now, Edward and baby_ Maddie_ are my life. There is no one else, there never has been. I want forever too.

"Well," I pause. "Life _is_ too short to take for granted—"

Edward gasps, catches himself and interrupts me. "Are you saying 'Yes'?" he asks incredulously.

"Yes, I'll marry you." The sobs have quieted down, but tears are still silently flowing down my face. Tears of happiness. "But are you sure you want to this weekend? You start Surgery on Monday, and I have a deadline on Tuesday—"

"Bella _Cullen_," he says happily. "I don't want to waste another minute. I'll bring my books and you can bring your laptop. Come on, let's go home and get packed and I'll book our flights while you call everyone."

Edward throws down some bills on the table as I gather up our pictures of Maddie and my phone. We walk hand in hand out of the diner and into the interminable grey rain of Seattle. Edward has planned fancy dinners with a ring hiding in dessert, he's gotten down on one knee, we've been camping near the waterfalls at Yosemite, and had romantic homemade dinners. He's hired musicians, and even played a song on the piano he composed just for the proposal. But, the most heartfelt proposal is the one he said today, here in the greasy diner, amongst syrupy strawberry pie. It's not just the words he's said or the fact that we are going to be parents in just four months. I'm not even sure what it is, except the synchronicity of events that have led us to each other have paved the way towards this moment, just another moment in our intertwined lives of forever.


End file.
